*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 49180 *** A SELECT COLLECTION OF OLD ENGLISH PLAYS. ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY ROBERT DODSLEY IN THE YEAR 1744. _FOURTH EDITION_, NOW FIRST CHRONOLOGICALLY ARRANGED, REVISED AND ENLARGED WITH THE NOTES OF ALL THE COMMENTATORS, AND NEW NOTES BY W. CAREW HAZLITT. BENJAMIN BLOM, INC. [Illustration] New York ELVIRA OR THE WORST NOT ALWAYS TRUE. _EDITION._ _Elvira: Or, The worst not always true. A Comedy, Written by a Person of Quality. Licenced May 15th, 1667, Roger L'Estrange. London, Printed by E. Cotes for Henry Brome in Little-Brittain. 1667. 4º._ INTRODUCTION. George Digby, Earl of Bristol, was the author of the following play. He was, as Mr. Walpole[1] observes, "a singular person, whose life was one contradiction. He wrote against Popery, and embraced it; he was a zealous opposer of the Court, and a sacrifice for it; was conscientiously converted in the midst of his prosecution of Lord Strafford, and was most unconscientiously a prosecutor of Lord Clarendon. With great parts, he always hurt himself and his friends; with romantic bravery, he was always an unsuccessful commander. He spoke for the Test Act, though a Roman Catholic; and addicted himself to astrology on the birthday of true philosophy." The histories of England abound with the adventures of this inconsistent and eccentric nobleman who, amongst his other pursuits, esteemed the drama not unworthy of his attention. Downes, the prompter,[2] asserts that he wrote two plays between the years 1662 and 1665, _made out of the Spanish_; one called "'Tis better than it was," and the other entitled "Worse and Worse." Whether either of these is the present performance cannot now be ascertained. It is, however, at least probable to be one of them with a new title.[3] The same writer says he also joined with Sir Samuel Tuke in the composition of "The Adventures of Five Hours." "Elvira" was printed in the year 1667, and Mr Walpole imagines that it occasioned our author being introduced into Sir John Suckling's Session of Poets, a conjecture which, however, will by no means correspond with the time in which Lord Bristol and Sir John Suckling are supposed to have written the respective works before mentioned. From the notice taken of him by Sir John Suckling as a poet, he seems to have been the author of some pieces which are now lost to the world.[4] After a life, which at different periods of it commanded both the respect and contempt of mankind, and not unfrequently the same sentiments at one time, he died, neither loved nor regretted by any party, in the year 1676. [A MS. note in one of the former editions says: "A play of pure _intrigue_.--Style feeble and drawling.--Plot extremely complicated, and quite unintelligible without a most fixed attention, which, however, the play has not merit enough to excite. _July 1819._"] FOOTNOTES: [1] "Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors," ii. 25. [2] "Roscius Anglicanus," 1708, p. 25. [3] P. 22. [4] It is not easy to find out why this inference is drawn, since Sir J. Suckling only mentions him by name, with three others comparatively little known. "Sands with Townshend, for they kept no order; _Digby_ and Shillingsworth a little further." "Session of the Poets."--_Collier_. [But the Digby here mentioned was Sir Kenelm Digby, surely.] _DRAMATIS PERSONÆ._ +Don Julio Rocca.+ +Don Pedro de Mendoça.+ +Don Fernando Solis+, _in love with Donna Elvira._ +Don Zancho de Moneçes+, _in love with Donna Blanca._ +Fabio+, _servant to Don Fernando._ +Fulvio+, _servant to Don Pedro._ +Chichon+, _servant to Don Zancho._ +A Page.+ +Donna Elvira+, _a beautiful lady, Don Pedro's daughter._ +Donna Blanca+, _a lady of high spirit, Don Julio's sister._ +Francisca+, _Donna Blanca's woman._ _Scene, Valencia._ ELVIRA; OR, THE WORST NOT ALWAYS TRUE.[5] ACT I. _The room in the inn._ _Enter +Don Fernando+, and at another door his servant +Fabio+, both in riding-clothes._ +Don F.+ Have you not been with him, Fabio, and given him The note? +Fab.+ I found him newly got out of his bed; He seem'd much satisfied, though much surpris'd, With your arrival; and as soon as possibly He can get ready, he'll be with you here. He says he hopes some good occasion brings you To Valencia, and that he shall not be At quiet till he know it. 'Twas not fit For me, without your orders, to give him Any more light than what your ticket did. +Don. F.+ 'Tis well: go now, and see if Donna Elvira Be stirring yet, for I would gladly have her A witness, even at first, to what shall pass Betwixt my friend and me in our concernments: If she be still asleep, Fabio, make bold To knock, and wake her; w' have no time to lose. O, here she comes. Wait you Don Julio. [_Exit +Fabio+._ _Enter +Donna Elvira+._ +Elv.+ Ah! can you think my cares and sleep consistent? Slumber and tears have sometimes met in dreams; But hearts, with such a weight as mine opprest, Find still the heaviest sleep too light a guest. +Don F.+ Madam, though such least pity do deserve, Who by their own unsteadiness have drawn Misfortune on themselves, yet truly, Elvira, Such is my sense of yours and my compassion, To see a lady of your quality Brought to such sad extremes in what is dearest, As makes me even forget my own resentments, Granting to pity the whole place of love; And at that rate I'll serve you. Yet thus far You must allow the eruption of a heart So highly injur'd, as to tell you frankly, 'Tis to comply with my own principles Of honour now, without the least relation To former passion or to former favours. +Elv.+ Those you have found a ready way to cancel; Your sullen silence, during all our journey, Might well have spar'd you these superfluous words; That had sufficiently instructed me What power mere appearances have had, Without examination, to destroy With an umbrageous nature all that love Was ever able on the solid'st grounds To found and to establish. Yet, methinks, A man that boasts such principles of honour, And of such force to sway him in his actions, In spite of all resentments, should reflect, That honour does oblige to a suspense, At least of judgment, when surprising chances, Yet uninquired into, tempt gallant men To prejudicial thoughts of those with whom They had settled friendship upon virtuous grounds. But 'tis from Heav'n, I see, and not from you, Elvira must expect her vindication; And until then submit to th' hardest fate That ever can befall a generous spirit-- Of being oblig'd by him that injures her. +Don F.+ Nay, speak, Elvira, speak; you've me attentive: [_With a kind of scornful accent._ It were a wonder worthy of your wit To make me trust my ears before my eyes. +Elv.+ Those are the witnesses, indeed, Fernando, To whose true testimony's false inference You owe my moderation and my silence, And that I leave it to the gods and time To make appear both to the world and you The maxim false, that still the worst proves true. _Enter +Fabio+._ +Fab.+ Don Julio is without. +Don F.+ Wait on him in---- [_Exit +Fabio+._ And now, Elvira, If you'll be pleas'd to rest yourself awhile Within that closet, you may hear what passes Betwixt my friend and me, until such time As I by some discourse having prevented Too great surprise, you shall think fit t' appear. He is the man (as I have often told you During my happy days) for whom alone I have no reserves; and 'tis to his assistance That I must owe the means of serving you In the concernments of your safety and honour; And therefore, madam, 'twill be no offence, I hope, to trust him with the true occasion That brings me hither to employ his friendship; Observing that respect in the relation Which I shall always pay you. +Elv.+ [_Retiring as into the closet._] There needs no management in the relation. I am indifferent what others think, Since those who ought t' have thought the best have fail'd me: Sir, I obey, resign'd up to your conduct, Till mistress of my own. [_Exit._ _Enter +Don Julio+: +Don Fernando+ and he embrace._ +Don J.+ My joy to have my dear Fernando here So unexpectedly, as great as 'tis, Cannot make Julio insensible Of th' injury you have done him, t' have alighted, And pass'd a night within Valencia At any other place than at his house: Donna Blanca herself will scarce forgive it, When she shall know it. +Don F.+ I hope she's well. +Don J.+ She is so, thanks to heaven: But I must bid you expect a chiding from her. +Don F.+ You both might well accuse me of a failure, Did not th' occasion of my coming hither Bring with it an excuse, alas! too just, As you will quickly find. +Don J.+ Nay, then you raise disquiet; ease me quickly, By telling me what 'tis. Of this be sure: Heart, hand and fortune are entirely yours At all essays. +Don. F.+ [_After pausing awhile._] It is not new t' ye that I was a lover, Engaged in all the passion that e'er beauty, In height of its perfection, could produce; And that confirm'd by reason from her wit, Her quality and most unblemish'd conduct; Nor was there more to justify my love, Than to persuade my happiness in her Just correspondence to it, by all the ways Of honourable admission, that might serve To make esteem transcend the pitch of love. +Don J.+ Of all this I have not only had knowledge, But great participation in your joys: Than which I thought nothing more permanent, Since founded on such virtue as Elvira's. +Don F.+ Ah, Julio! how fond a creature is the man That founds his bliss upon a woman's firmness! Even that Elvira, when I thought myself Securest in my happiness, nothing wanting To make her mine, but those exterior forms, Without which men of honour, that pretend In way of marriage, would be loth to find Greater concession, where the love is greatest; As I was sitting with her, late at night, By usual admittance to her chamber, As two whose hearts in wedlock-bands were join'd, And seem'd above all other care, but how Best to disguise things to a wayward father, Till time and art might compass his consent; A sudden noise was heard in th' inner room, Belonging to her chamber: she starts up In manifest disorder, and runs in, Desiring me to stay till she had seen What caus'd it. I, impatient, follow, As fearing for her, had it been her father: My head no sooner was within the room, But straight I spied, behind a curtain shrinking, A goodly gallant, but not known to me. +Don J.+ Heavens, what can this be? +Don F.+ You will not think that there, and at that hour, I stay'd to ask his name. He ready as I To make his sword th' expresser of his mind, We soon determin'd what we sought: I hurt But slightly in the arm; he fell as slain, Run through the body: what Elvira did, My rage allow'd me not to mark: but straight I got away, more wounded to the heart Than he I left for dead. +Don J.+ Prodigious accident! where can it end? +Don F.+ I got safe home where, carefully conceal'd, I sought by Fabio's diligence to learn Who my slain rival was, and what became Of my unhappy mistress, and what course Don Pedro de Mendoça took to right The honour of his house. +Don J.+ You long'd not more To know it then, than I do now. +Don F.+ All could be learn'd was this: that my rival, Whom I thought dead, was likely to recover, And that he was a stranger lately come Up to the court, to follow some pretensions: His name he either learn'd not perfectly, Or did not well retain. As for Elvira, That none knew where she was; and that Don Pedro Had set a stop to prosecution In any public way, with what reserves Was not yet known. +Don J.+ More and more intricate. +Don F.+ I must now come to that you least look for. I had but few days pass'd in my concealment (Resentment and revenge still boiling in me) When late one evening, as I buried was In deepest thought, I suddenly was rous'd By a surprising apparition, Julio-- Elvira in my chamber, speaking to me With rare assurance thus:--Don Fernando, I come not here to justify myself, That were below Elvira towards one, Whose action in deserting me hath shown So disobligingly his rash judgment of me. I come to mind you of honour, not of love: Mine can protection seek from none but yours. I've hitherto been shelter'd from the fury Of my enrag'd father by my cousin Camilla: But that's no place, you easily may judge, For longer stay: I do expect from you To be convey'd where, free from violence And from new hazards of my wounded fame, I may attend my righting from the gods. +Don J.+ Can guilt maintain such confidence in a maid? Yet how to think her innocent, I know not. +Don F.+ 'Twere loss of time to dwell on circumstances, Either of my wonder or reply: in short, What I found honour dictated, I did. Within two hours, I put her in a coach, And, favour'd by the night, convey'd her safe Out of Madrid to Ocana, and thence In three days hither to Valencia, The only place where (by your generous aid) I could have hopes to settle and secure Her person and her honour. That once done, Farewell to Spain: I'll to the wars of Milan, And there soon put a noble end to cares. +Don J.+ Let us first think how to dispose of her, Since here you say she is; that done (which presses), You will have time to weigh all other things. +Don F.+ My thoughts can pitch upon no other way Decent or safe for her, but in a convent, If you have any abbess here to friend. +Don J.+ I have an aunt, ruling the Ursulines, With whom I have full power; and she is wise, In case that course were to be fix'd upon. But that's not my opinion. +Don F.+ What can Your reason be? +Don J.+ Last remedies, in my judgment, Are not to be used, till easier have been tried. Had this strange accident been thoroughly Examined in all its circumstances, And that from thence she were convicted guilty, Nought else were to be thought on but a cloister; But, as things stand imperfectly discover'd, Although appearances condemn her strongly, I cannot yet conclude a person guilty Of what throughout so contradictory seems To the whole tenor of her former life, As well as to her quality and wit; And therefore let's avoid precipitation, Let my house be her shelter for awhile; You know my sister Blanca is discreet, And may be trusted; she shall there be serv'd By her and me with care and secrecy. +Don F.+ The offer's kind, but nowise practicable, And might prove hazardous to Blanca's honour, When it should once break out (as needs it must) From servants seeing such a guest so treated. +Don J.+ That, I confess, I know not how to answer: But, could Elvira's mind submit unto it, I could propose a course without objection. +Don F.+ That she can soon resolve; what is it, Julio? +Don J.+ A gentlewoman, who waited on my sister, Hath newly left her service for a husband, And it is known she means to take another: I have a ready way to recommend one-- By Violante, of whose love and mine You are not ignorant, since that ere this We had been married, had not kindred forc'd us To wait a dispensation for 't from Rome. Blanca (I am sure) will readily Embrace any occasion of obliging her. +Don F.+ That were a right expedient indeed, Could but Elvira's spirit brook it. _Enter +Elvira+ as from the closet._ +Elv.+ You have ill measures of Elvira's spirit, Mistaken Don Fernando. Till Heaven's justice Shall her entirely to herself restore, The lowlier shape her fate shall hide her under, The more 'twill fit her humour. [_+Don Julio+ starts back as it were amazed._ +Don J.+ [_Aside._] O heavens! can guilt with such perfection dwell, And put on such assurance? It cannot be. +Don J.+ [_Addressing himself to her, and beginning; she holding out her hand and interrupting him._] Madam---- +Elv.+ Spare compliments, and let your actions speak: Those may oblige both him and me; your words Cannot comply with both. +Don J.+ [_Aside._] Did ever yet Such majesty with misery combine, But in this woman? [_To her._] Madam, I obey, And, since you're pleas'd t' approve what I proposed, No moment shall be lost in th' execution. [_Exit +Julio+, +Fernando+ accompanying him, and +Fabio+._ +Elv.+ O, how unkindly have the heavens dealt With womankind above all other creatures! Our pleasure and our glory to have placed All on the brink of precipices, such As every breath can blow the least light of us Headlong into, past all hopes of redemption: Nor can our wit or virtue give exemption. 'Tis true, I lov'd; but justified therein By spotless thoughts and by the object's merit, I deem'd myself above the reach of malice; When in an instant, by another's folly, I am more lost than any by her[6] own. Accurs'd Don Zancho, what occasion E'er gave Elvira to thy mad intrusion? Unless disdain and scorn incentives are To make men's passions more irregular. Ah, matchless rigour of the Pow'rs above! Not only to submit our honour's fate Unto the vanity of those we love, But to the rashness even of those we hate. [_Exit._ _Enter +Donna Blanca+ at one door, reading a paper, with great marks of passion and disturbance; and her waiting-woman +Francisca+ at another, observing her._ +Blan.+ Ah, the traitor! +Fran.+ What can this mean? [_Aside._ +Blan.+ Was this thy sweet pretension at Madrid, Drawn out in length, and hind'ring thy return? Thy fair pretence, thou shouldst have said, false man. +Fran.+ For love's sake, madam, what can move you thus? +Blan.+ For hate's sake, say, and for revenge, Francisca, And so thou may'st persuade me to discover My shame unto thee. Read, read that letter; 'Tis from your favourite Chichon. [_+Francisca+ takes the letter and reads it._ "Madam, to make good my engagements of concealing nothing from you during this absence of my master, I am bound to tell you that some ten days since, late at night, he was left for dead, run through the body by another unknown gallant, in the chamber of a famed beauty of the court. Whilst the danger continued, I thought it not fit to let you know either the accident or the occasion; which, now he is recovered, and thinking of his return to Valencia, I must no longer forbear. I hope you will have a care not to undo me for being more faithful to you than to the master you gave me.--Your creature, "+Chichon.+" +Blan.+ Have I not a worthy gallant, think you? +Fran.+ Madam, this comes of being over-curious, And gaining servants to betray their masters. How quiet might you have slept, and never felt What pass'd with your Don Zancho at Madrid! His pale and dismal looks at his return, Though caus'd by loss of blood in the hot service Of other dames, might fairly have been thought Effects of care and want of sleep for you, And (taken so) have pass'd for new endearments. Who ever pry'd into another's letter, Or slyly hearken'd to another's whisper, But saw or heard somewhat that did not please him? 'Twas Eve's curiosity undid us all. +Blan.+ Away with thy moralities,[7] dull creature! I'll make thee see, and false Don Zancho feel, That Blanca's not a dame to be so treated. But who are those I hear without? Whoe'er They be, they come at an unwelcome hour. [_+Francisca+ looks out._ +Fran.+ Madam, it is a page of Violante's, Ushering [in] a handsome maid. _Enter a Page with a letter, and +Elvira+. The Page presents the letter to +Blanca+; she addresses herself to +Elvira+, and she throws up her veil._ +Blan.+ This letter is in your behalf, fair maid, [_Having read the letter._ There's no denying such a recommender; But such a face as yours is needed none. Page, tell your lady as much: and you, Silvia, [_Turning._ (For so she says you are call'd) be confident Y'are fallen into the hands of one that knows How to be kind, more as your friend than mistress, If your demeanour and good-nature answer But what your looks do promise. +Elv.+[8] Madam, it is the noble charity Of those you cast upon me, not mine own, To which I must acknowledge any advantage I ever can pretend to, more than what Fair Violante's meditation gives me. +Blan.+ She's strangely handsome, and how well she speaks! [_Aside to +Francisca+._ +Fran.+ So, so, methinks: you know new-comers, madam, Set still the best foot forward. +Blan.+ And know as well, that you decaying stagers Are always jealous of new-comers, young And handsome. +Fran.+ You may be as sharp upon me as you please; I know to what t' attribute your ill-humour. +Blan.+ Francisca, entertain her: I'll go write To Violante, and then rest awhile, In hopes to ease the headache that hath seiz'd me; That done, sweet Silvia, we shall talk at leisure. [_Exit +Blanca+._ +Fran.+ _Sweet Silvia!_ kind epithets are for new faces. [_Aside._ +Elv.+ Now comes the hard part of my task indeed, To act the fellow waiting-woman right. But, since the gods already have conform'd My mind to my condition, I do hope They'll teach me words and gestures suitable. [_Aside. +Francisca+ embraces +Elvira+._ +Fran.+ Let me embrace thee, my sweet sister, and beg you To be no niggard of a little kindness: A very little serves, with such a face, To gain what heart you please. +Elv.+ If it can help to gain me yours, I'll take it For the best office that it ever did me, And love it much the better. +Fran.+ Make much on't then, for that 't has done already. +Elv.+ If you will have me vain enough to think it, You must confirm it by the proof of being My kind instructor how to please my lady, For I am very raw in service. +Fran.+ O, that I were so too, and had thy youth t' excuse it. But my experience, sister, shall be yours By free communication. Come, let's in, And rest us in my chamber; there I'll give you First handsel of the frankness of my nature. [_Exeunt +Elvira+ and +Francisca+._ _Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ his man, in riding-habits._ +Don Z.+ I must confess, Chichon, the very smell Of sweet Valencia has e'en reviv'd my spirits. There's no such pleasure as to suck and breathe One's native air. +Chi.+ Chiefly after being in so fair a way, As you, of never breathing any more! +Don Z.+ Prythee, no more of that; since I have forgot it, Methinks thou easily may'st. +Chi.+ Faith, hardly, sir, whilst still your ghastly face Doth bear such dismal memorandums of it, Apter to raise inquisitiveness in those Knowing nothing of the matter, than t' allay Remembrance in partakers. +Don Z.+ Heaven shield us from Donna Blanca's queries! No matter for the rest. +Chi.+ You would not wish to find her so unconcern'd; I'm sure you would not: faith, I long to hear Th' ingenious defeats, I make account, You are prepar'd to give to her suspicions. +Don Z.+ Let me alone for that: but, on thy life, Be sure that nothing be screw'd out of thee, Neither by her nor by her sly Francisca. +Chi.+ Be you, sir, sure, that from your true Chichon They'll know no more to-day, than yesterday They did; nor thence more to the world's end, Than what they did before we left Madrid. +Don Z.+ Truly, Chichon, we needs must find the means To get a sight of her this very night: I die, if I should miss it. +Chi.+ Last week left gasping for Elvira's love. And scarce reviv'd, when presently expiring For Blanca's again! I did not think Don Cupid Had been a merchant of such quick returns. +Don Z.+ Thou art an ass, and want'st distinctiveness 'Twixt love and love: that was a love of sport To keep the serious one in breath. +Chi.+ Faith, sir, I must confess my ignorance, That when I saw you grovelling in your blood, I thought your love had been in sober sadness. +Don Z.+ Prythee, leave fooling, and let's carefully Gain the back way into my house unseen, That none may know of my return, till Blanca Find me at her feet. And be you industrious T' observe Don Julio's going forth this evening: Doubtless he'll keep his usual hours abroad At Violante's, since not married yet. +Chi.+ I shall observe your orders punctually. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Don Julio+, and knocks as at +Blanca's+ door._ +Don J.+ What, sister, at your siesta[9] already? if so, You must have patience to be wak'd out of it, For I have news to tell you. _Enter +Blanca+._ +Blan.+ No, brother, I was much more pleasingly Employ'd--in serving you; that is, making My court to Violante by receiving To wait upon me, in Lucilla's place, A gentlewoman of her recommending. +Don J.+ Where is she? let me see her. +Blan.+ 'Twere not safe: She is too handsome. You think now I jest? But, without raillery, she is so lovely, That, were not Violante very assur'd Of her own beauty and the strong ideas That still upholds within you, one might question Her wit to have set her in her gallant's way. But what's the news you mean? +Don J.+ That our dear friend and kinsman, Don Fernando, Is come to town, and going for Italy: The secret of it doth so much import him, It forc'd him to forbear alighting here, And lodging with us, as he us'd to do; But yet he says, nothing shall hinder him From waiting on you in the dusk of th' evening: I hope you'll find wherewith to regale[10] him. +Blan.+ As well as you have drain'd my cabinets Of late in presents to your mistress, some Perfumes will yet be found, such as at Rome Itself shall not disgrace Valencia. +Don J.+ I know your humour, and that the best present Can be given you is to give you the occasion Of presenting; but I am come in now Only to advertise you, and must be gone; Yet not, I hope, without a sight of one So recommended and commended so. +Blan.+ I should have thought you strangely chang'd in humour, Should you have gone away so uncuriously. Francisca, ho! [_She knocks._ _Enter +Francisca+._ +Fran.+ What please you, madam? +Fran.+ Prythee, tell Silvia I would speak with her. [_Exit +Francisca+._ Well, clear your eyes, and say I have no skill, If she appears not t' ye exceeding handsome. _Enter +Francisca+ with +Elvira+. +Don Julio+ salutes her._ +Don J.+ Welcome, fair maid, into this family, Where, whilst you take a servant's name upon you, To do my sister honour, you must allow Its master to be yours, and that by strongest ties, Knowing who plac'd you here, and having eyes. +Elv.+ I wish my service, sir, to her and you May merit such a happy introduction. +Don J.+ Farewell, sister, till anon: accompanied As now you are, I think you'll miss me little. [_Exit +Julio+._ +Blan.+ I must confess, I ne'er could better spare you Than at this time, but not for any reason That you, I hope, can guess at. Francisca, you and Silvia may retire, [_Exeunt +Elvira+ and +Francisca+._ And entertain yourselves: I'll to my closet, And try to rest, or (rather) to vent freely My restless thoughts. O, the self-torturing part [_Aside._ To force complaisance from a jealous heart! [_Exit._ FOOTNOTES: [5] The errors Dodsley committed, and Reed allowed to remain, in the course of this play, were very numerous: it has been thought worth while to point out only a few of them in the notes.--_Collier._ [6] The substitution of _my_ for _her_, in opposition to the authority of the old copy, till now made this passage unintelligible.--_Collier._ [7] In former editions misprinted-- "Away with thy _formalities_, dull creature!"-- which destroys all the spirit of the exclamation.--_Collier._ [8] The old copy inserts in the margin opposite Elvira the words _by the name of Silvia_ merely to show more distinctly that Elvira was to pass by that name, which is inserted before what she says.--_Collier._ [9] The heat of the day, from noon forwards. So called from Hora Sexta, noonday, a time when the Spanish ladies retire to sleep. [10] It is singular that in the old copy the author should here have inserted the Spanish verb _regalar_ instead of the English one.--_Collier._ ACT II. _Scene changes to the room in the inn. Enter +Don Julio+ and +Don Fernando+._ +Don J.+ Albricias,[11] friend, for the good news I bring you: All has fallen out as well as we could wish. As to Elvira's settling with my sister, So lucky a success in our first aims Concerning her, I trust, does bode good fortune Beyond our hopes; yet, in the farther progress Of this affair---- +Don F.+ There's no such thing in nature left as _better_, Julio; the worst proves always true with me. Yet prythee, tell, how does that noble beauty (Wherein high quality is so richly stamp'd) Comport her servile metamorphosis? +Don J.+ As one whose body, as divine as 'tis, Seems bound to obey exactly such a mind, And gently take whate'er shape that imposes. +Don F.+ Ah, let us mention her no more, my Julio! Ideas flow upon me too abstracted From her unfaithfulness, and may corrupt The firmest reason. Above all, be sure I do not see her so transform'd, lest that Transform me too: I'll rather pass with Blanca Both for unkind and rude, and leave Valencia Without seeing her. +Don J.+ Leave that to me, Fernando; But if you intend the honour to my sister, It will be time: the night draws on apace. +Don F.+ Come, let's begone then. [_As they are going out, enter +Fabio+ hastily._ +Fab.+ Stay, sir, for heaven's sake, stay---- +Don F.+ Why, what's the matter? +Fab.+ That will surprise you both, as much as me. Don Pedro de Mendoça is below, Newly alighted. +Don F.+ Ha! What say'st thou, sirrah? Elvira's father? +Fab.+ Sir, the very same; And he had scarcely set one foot to ground When he inquired, Where lives Don Julio Rocca? +Don J.+ For my house, Fabio? It cannot be; I never knew the man. +Don F.+ The thing does speak itself and my hard fate. What else can bring him hither but pursuit Of me and of his daughter, having learn'd The way we took? and what's so easy, Julio, Here at Valencia, as to know our friendship; And then of consequence, your house to be My likeliest retreat? +Don J.+ 'Tis surely so; Let us apply our thoughts to best preventives. +Don F.+ Whilst we retire into the inner room T' advise together, Fabio, be you sure (Since unknown to him) to observe his motions. [_Exeunt omnes._ _Scene changes to the prospect of Valencia. Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+, as in the street near +Don Julio's+ house._ +Don Z.+ Newly gone out, say you? That is as lucky as we could have wish'd: And see but how invitingly the door Stands open still! +Chi.+ An open door may lead to a face of wood; [_Aside to +Don Zancho+._ But mean you, sir, to go abruptly in Without more ceremony? +Don Z.+ Surprise redoubles (fool) the joys of lovers. But stay, Chichon, let's walk aside awhile, Till yonder coach be past. [_Exeunt._ _Scene changes to the room in the inn. Enter +Don Julio+ and +Don Fernando+._ +Don J.+ There's no safety in any other way. You must not stir from hence, until w' have got Some farther light what course he means to steer. Let Fabio be vigilant: I'll get home Down that back-stairs, and take such order there Not to be found, in case he come to inquire, As for this night at least shall break his measures; And in the morning we'll resolve together, Whether you ought to quit Valencia or no. +Don F.+ Farewell, then, for to-night: I'll be alert. But see y' excuse me fairly to my cousin. [_Exeunt._ _Scene changes to +Blanca's+ antechamber. Enter +Donna Blanca+ and +Francisca+._ +Blan.+ As well as Silvia pleases me, Francisca, I'm glad at present that she is not well, She would constrain me else: she has wit enough To descant on my humour, and from thence To make perhaps discoveries, not fit For such new-comers. +Fran.+ If she has wit, she keep it to herself, At least from me: of pride and melancholy I see good store. +Blan.+ Still envious and detracting? _Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+._ +Fran.+ See who comes there, madam, to stop your mouth! [_+Donna Blanca+ casting an eye that way, and +Chichon+ clinging up close behind his master, and making a mouth._ +Chi.+ Sh' has spied us, and it thickens in the clear. I fear a storm: goes not your heart pit-a-pat? [_To his master, aside._ +Blan.+ Ah, the bold traitor!--but I must dissemble, And give his impudence a little line, The better to confound him. [_Advancing to him, and as it were embracing him with an affected cheerfulness._ Welcome as unexpected, my Don Zancho. +Don Z.+ Nay, then we are safe, Chichon. [_Aside to +Chichon+._ Incomparable maid! Heaven bless those eyes, From which I find a new life springing in me; Having so long been banish'd from their rays, How dark the court appear'd to me without them; Could it have kept me from their influence, As from their light, I had expir'd long since. +Blan.+ Y' express your love now in so courtly a style, I fear you have acted it in earnest there, And but rehearse to me your country mistress. +Don Z.+ Ah, let Chichon but tell you how he hath seen me During my absence from you. +Chi.+ I vow I have seen him even dead for love. You might have found it in his very looks, Before you brought the blood into his cheeks. +Blan.+ E'en dead (you say) for love! but say of whom? +Don Z.+ Can Blanca ask a question so injurious, As well to her own perfections as my faith? +Blan.+ I can hold no longer. [_Aside to +Francisca+._ My faithful lover, then it is not you---- [_To him scornfully._ +Chi.+ She changes tone: I like not, faith, the key, The music will be jarring. [_Aside to his master._ +Blan.+ 'Tis not then you, Don Zancho, who, having chang'd His suit at court into a love pretension, And his concurrents into a gallant rival, Fell by his hand, a bloody sacrifice At his fair mistress' feet: who was it, then? [_+Don Zancho+ stands awhile as amazed, with folded arms. +Chichon+ behind his master, holding up his hands, and making a pitiful face; +Francisca+ steals to him, and holding up her hand threateningly_-- +Fran.+ A blab, Chichon, a pick-thank, peaching varlet! Ne'er think to look me in the face again. [_Aside to +Chichon+._ +Chi.+ In what part shall I look thee, hast thou a worse? It is the devil has discover'd it-- Some witch dwells here: I've long suspected thee. [_Aside to +Francisca+._ +Fran.+ I never more shall think thee worth my charms. +Blan.+ What, struck dumb with guilt? perfidious man! That happens most to the most impudent, When once detected. Well, get thee hence, And see thou ne'er presum'st to come again Within these walls, or I shall let thee see 'Tis not at court alone, where hands are found To let such madmen blood. [_She turns as going away, and +Don Zancho+ holds her gently by the gown._ +Don Z.+ Give me but hearing, madam, and then if---- +Don J.+ What, ho! no lights below-stairs? [_Aloud, as below._ +Fran.+ O heavens! madam, hear you not your brother? Into the chamber quickly, and let them Retire behind that hanging; there's a place, Where usually we throw neglected things. I'll take the lights and meet him: certainly His stay will not be long from Violante At this time of the night; besides, you know, He never was suspicious. [_+Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ go behind the hanging, and +Donna Blanca+, retiring to her chamber, says--_ Capricious fate! must I who, whilst I lov'd him, Ne'er met with checking accident, fall now Into extremest hazards for a man, Whom I begin to hate? [_Exit, and +Francisca+ at another door with the lights._ _+Francisca+ re-enters with +Don Julio+._ +Don J.+ Where's my sister? +Fran.+ In her chamber, sir, Not very well; she's taken with a megrim. +Don J.+ Light me in to her. [_Exit +Don Julio+, +Francisca+ lighting him with one of the lights. +Chichon+ peeping out from behind the hangings._ +Chi.+ If this be Cupid's prison, 'tis no sweet one. Here are no chains of roses; yet I think Y' had rather b' in 't than in Elvira's chamber, As gay and as perfum'd as 'twas. +Don Z.+ Hold your peace, puppy; is this a time for fooling? _Enter +Francisca+, and +Chichon+ starts back._ +Fran.+ [_Coming to the hanging._] Chichon, look out; you may, the coast is clear. [_+Chichon+ looks out._ Could I my lady's near concerns but sever From yours in this occasion, both of you Should dearly pay your falsehood. +Chi.+ You are jealous too, I see; but help us out This once, and if you catch me here again, Let Chichon pay for all, faithful Chichon. +Fran.+ Y' are both too lucky in the likelihood Of getting off so soon. Stay but a moment, Whilst I go down to see the wicket open, And see that there be nobody in the way. [_Exit +Francisca+._ +Chi.+ It is a cunning drab, and knows her trade. _Re-enter +Francisca,+ and comes to the hanging._ +Fran.+ There's now some witch o' th' wing indeed, Chichon, Julio, that never till this night forbore To go to Violante's, ere he slept, And pass some hours there--Julio, who never Inquired after the shutting of a door, Hath lock'd the gate himself at 's coming in, And bid a servant wait below till midnight, With charge to say to any that should knock And ask for him, that he's gone sick to bed! What it can mean, I know not. +Chi.+ I would I did not; but I have too true An almanac in my bones foretells a beating Far surer than foul weather. He has us, faith, Fast in Lob's-pound.[12] Heaven send him a light hand, To whom my fustigation shall belong: As for my master, he may have the honour To be rebuk'd at sharp. +Fran.+ May terror rack this varlet; but for you, sir, Be not dismay'd, the hazard's not so great. Yonder balcony, at farther end o' th' room, Opens into the street, and the descent is Little beyond your height, hung by the arms: When Julio is asleep, I shall not fail To come and let you out; I keep the key. In the meanwhile, you must have patience. +Chi.+ It were a nasty hole to stay in long. Did not my fear correct its evil savour. [_Aside._ Dame, you say well for him, with whom I think Y' have measur'd length, you speak so punctually Of his dimensions; but I see no care For me, your pretty, not your proper man, Who does abhor feats of activity. [_To her._ +Fran.+ I'll help you--with a halter! [_Exit +Francisca+, and +Chichon+ retires._ _Scene changes to +Blanca's+ Bed-chamber. Enter +Blanca+ and +Elvira+; and soon after +Francisca+, as in +Blanca's+ chamber, she sitting at her toilet undressing._ +Blan.+ My brother told me I should see him again, Before he went to rest. +Fran.+ I think I hear him coming. +Blan.+ He'll not stay long, I hope; for I am on thorns Till I know they are out. I' th' meanwhile, We must persuade Silvia to go to bed, Lest some odd chance should raise suspicion in her, Before I know her fitness for such trusts. _Enter +Don Julio+. +Elvira+ offers to unpin her gorget._ +Blan.+ I prythee, Silvia, leave, and get thee gone To bed: you ha'n't been well, nor are not yet; Your heavy eyes betray indisposition. +Elv.+ Good madam, suffer me; 'twill make me well To do you service. +Blan.+ Brother, I ask your help; [_To Julio._ Take Silvia hence, and see her in her chamber. This night she must be treated as a stranger, And you must do the honour of your house. [_+Julio+ goes to +Elvira+, and taking her by the hand, leads her away._ +Elv.+ Since you will not let me begin to serve, I will begin to obey. [_Making a low curtsey._ +Fran.+ Quaint, in good faith! [_Bridling._ +Don J.+ My sister's kinder than she thinks, to give me [_To +Elvira+, as he leads her._ This opportunity of telling Silvia How absolutely mistress in this place Elvira is. [_+Francisca+ whispers all this while with +Blanca+._ +Elv.+ Good sir, forget that name. [_Exeunt +Julio+ and +Elvira+._ +Blan.+ If that be so, what shall we do, Francisca? What way to get them out? +Fran.+ It is a thing so unusual with him, It raises ominous thoughts, else I make sure To get them off as well as you can wish; But, if already awaken'd by suspicion, Nothing can then be sure. +Blan.+ O, fear not that: what you have seen him do Of unaccustom'd, I dare say relates To quite another business. +Fran.+ Then set your heart at rest from all disturbance Arising from this accident. +Blan.+ If you are certain To get them off so clear from observation, 'Twill out of doubt be best: I'll tell my brother Don Zancho is return'd, and had call'd here This evening to have seen him; for my fears Sprang only from the hour and the surprise, Warm'd as he then had found me; since you know How little apt he is to jealousy. +Fran.+ Madam, y' have reason; that will make all sure, In case he should be told of's being here; The time of's stay can hardly have been noted. _Enter +Don Julio+._ +Don J.+ As an obedient brother, I have perform'd What you commanded me. +Blan.+ A hard injunction from a cruel sister, To wait upon a handsome maid to her chamber! +Don J.+ You see I've not abused your indulgence By staying long; nor can I stay indeed With you, I must be abroad so early To-morrow morning; therefore, dear, good night. +Blan.+ Stay, brother, stay; I had forgot to tell you [_As he is going._ Don Zancho de Moneçes is return'd, And call'd this evening here t' have kiss'd your hands. Francisca spake with him. +Don J.+ I hope he's come successful in his suit: To-morrow I'll go see him. [_Exit +Don Julio+._ +Blan.+ You see he's free from umbrage on that subject. +Fran.+ I see all's well, and may he sleep profoundly-- The sooner, madam, you are abed the better. +Blan.+ Would once my fears were over, that my rage Might have its course. +Fran.+ I shall not stop it, But after it has had its full career 'Twill pause, I hope, and reason find an ear. [_Exeunt._ _Scene changes to the room in the inn. Enter +Don Fernando+ and +Fabio+._ +Don F.+ Is he gone out? +Fab.+ No, sir, not as yet; But seeing the servant he had sent abroad Newly return'd, I listen'd at his door, And heard him plainly give him this account-- That he had found Don Julio Rocca's house, And having knock'd a good while at the door, Answer was made him without opening it, Don Julio's not at home; whereat Don Pedro Impatient rose, and, calling for his cloak And sword, he swore he'd rather wait himself Till midnight at his door, than lose a night In such a pressing business.--This I thought Fit to acquaint you with, and that he spake Doubtfully of his returning to lodge here. +Don F.+ You have done well, but must do better yet, In following him, and being sure to lose No circumstance of what he does. +Fab.+ To dog him possibly might be observ'd, This moonlight, by his servant; but since, sir, We're certain whither he goes, my best course (I think) will be to go out the back-way, And place myself beforehand in some porch Near Julio's house, where I may see and hear What passes, and then do as I shall see cause. +Don F.+ 'Tis not ill thought on; but how late soever Your return be, I shall expect to see you, Before we go to bed. +Fab.+ I shall not fail. [_Exeunt._ _Scene changes to +Donna Blanca's+ antechamber. Enter +Francisca+, and goes to the hanging where +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ are hid._ +Fran.+ Ho! trusty servant with his faithful master! Come out; the balcony's open, lose no time, Julio's abed, and fast asleep ere this-- There's nobody in the street, it is so light One may discover a mile; therefore be quick. [_+Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ come out from behind the hanging, and follow her, as leading to the balcony._ [_Exeunt._ [_And soon after +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+ appear as in the balcony, and +Francisca's+ head as peeping out of the door into it._ _Scene changes to the prospect of Valencia. Enter +Fabio+ as in the street, and settling himself in a porch._ +Fab.+ Here is a porch, as if 'twere built on purpose. [+Fabio+, _looking up, perceives them in the balcony._ Ha! here's a vision that I little dreamt of. Stand close, Fabio, and mum! [_+Don Zancho+ gets over the balcony, and letting himself down at arm's length, leaps gently into the street. +Chichon+ offers at the like, but takes a fall as he lights, and (rising) counterfeits lameness. +Francisca+ retires, and locks the balcony._ +Chi.+ Curse on the drab, I think I've broke my leg. +Fab.+ The moon has turn'd my brains, or I have seen That person somewhere, and that very lately-- [_He pauses, scratching his head._ But, sure, I'm mad to think it can be he. [_Exeunt +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+, as turning down the next street._ _Enter +Don Pedro+ and +Fulvio+._ +Fab.+ O, now I see my men. [_Retiring into the porch._ +Don P.+ This is the street, you say; which is the house? +Fulv.+ That fair one, over against the monastery. Shall I go knock? +Don P.+ What else? [_+Fulvio+ knocks at +Don Julio's+ door, and nobody answers._ +Don P.+ Knock harder. [_He knocks again, and one asks as from within_, Who's there? +Don P.+ A stranger, who must needs speak with Don Julio, Although unknown to him: my business presses. +From within.+ Whoe'er you be, and whatsoe'er your business, You must have patience till to-morrow, sir. Don Julio went sick to bed, and I dare not Wake him. +Don P.+ Fortune takes pleasure, sure, in disappointing, When men are press'd with most impatience; But, since there is no remedy, guide, Fulvio, Unto the lodging y' have provided for me; I hope 'tis near at hand. +Fulv.+ Not above three doors from Don Julio's, There, where it makes the corner of the street. [_Pointing._ +Fab.+ Here I must follow, till I've harbour'd them. [_Exeunt; +Fabio+ stealing after them._ _Scene changes to a room in the inn. Enter +Don Fernando+ alone, as in his chamber._ +Don F.+ It cannot now be long, ere Fabio come, And 'twere in vain to go to bed before, For rest, I'm sure, I should not-- [_He walks about the room pensively._ Ah, my Elvira!--Mine? thou dost infect My very words with falsehood, when I name thee. Did ever mistress make a lover pay So dear as I for the short bliss she gave? What now I suffer in exchange of that, May make mankind afraid of joys excessive. But here he comes-- _Enter +Fabio+._ Have you learn'd anything That's worth the knowing? [_To +Fabio+._ +Fab.+ Two things I think considerable, sir: The one, that Julio hath found means to gain This night to cast your business in, without Admitting of Don Pedro, whose pressures Might have been troublesome, and urged you To hasty resolutions; whereas now You've time to take your measures. The other, sir, Is that Don Pedro lodges here no more, And consequently hath eas'd you of constraint, Whilst you rest here, and left the way more free For intercourse betwixt Don Julio and you. This more I must observe t' ye, that Don Pedro Took special care to have his lodging near Don Julio's house, whereby 'tis evident, That there he makes account his business lies. +Don F.+ The news you bring me hath been worth your pains, And thanks t' ye for 't. I suppose that is all? +Fab.+ Perhaps there's something else. +Don F.+ Say, Fabio, what is't? +Fab.+ Pray, sir, allow me This night to think, whether it be fit or no To tell it you; since 'tis a thing relates not, As I conceive, to you nor to your business; And yet, in the concernments of another, May trouble you. +Don F.+ Be not o'erwise, I prythee. I will know What 'tis, since you have raised curiosity By such grimaces. +Fab.+ You must be obey'd; but pray remember, sir, If afterwards I am call'd fool for my pains, Who made me so: but since I do not only Expect the fool, but ready to be thought A madman too, ere I have done my story, In this I will be wilful, not to tell it Till y' are abed, that I may run away-- So if you long to hear it, hasten thither. [_Exit +Fabio+, as to the chamber within._ +Don F.+ Content, i'faith; you ask no great compliance. [_Exit._ _Scene changes to the room in +Zancho's+ house. Enter +Don Zancho+; and +Chichon+, as at home, halting._ +Don Z.+ We're well come off from danger; would we were But half as well from Blanca's jealousy. +Chi.+ Speak for yourself; I never came off worse. A pox upon your venery, it has made me Another Vulcan. [_He halts about, grumbling._ +Don Z.+ Go, rest to-night, or grumble, as you please; But do not think limping will serve your turn To-morrow: faith, I'll make you stir your stumps. Think you a lover of my temper likely To sit down by it so? +Chi.+ I'm sure I am only fit to sit down by it, Since I can hardly stand. [_He makes as if he would sit down, and +Don Zancho+ giving him a kick on the breech._ +Don Z.+ Coxcomb, come away. +Chi.+ To-night's to-night: to-morrow's a new day.[13] [_Exeunt._ FOOTNOTES: [11] See an early note to "The Adventures of Five Hours" in the present volume. [12] [_i.e._, In a snare. See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 200, where it is shown that the earlier phrase is _Cob's pound_.] [13] [A common proverbial expression.] ACT III. _Enter +Don Fernando+ and +Fabio,+ as in the room in the inn._ +Don F.+ Are all things ready, Fabio, in case Don Julio, when he comes, conclude with me That I should be gone presently? +Fab.+ Horses stand ready for you at the posthouse. +Don F.+ 'Tis well; attend without. [_Exit +Fabio+._ _Enter +Don Julio+._ I see you sleep not in your friend's concerns, You are so early; and since so, the sooner We fix a resolution, certainly 'Twill be the better. 'Twas no small point gain'd, To frustrate for a night Don Pedro's aims, As Fabio tells me you have done; for he Ne'er quitted him an inch last night, until He had harboured him. +Don J.+ What, has he left his lodging? +Don F.+ That he has, And (which is more considerable) taken one Close by your house, which evidences clearly, Where his suspicions lie: that being so, I'm confident you'll be of my opinion For my dislodging from Valencia Immediately; for, Elvira being Already so well settled, nothing can So much endanger her discovery As my remaining longer in these parts. +Don J.+ Were I but free as yesterday, Fernando, To think of nothing but Elvira and your Concernments, I must confess your absence From hence were to be wish'd: but, cousin, There's fallen out this very night a thing, Which shows how little I beholden am To fortune that, having so newly lent me The means of serving handsomely my friend, Calls back the debt already, and makes me As needing of your aid, as you of mine. +Don. F.+ Ho! Fabio, forbid the horses presently. [_+Fabio+ looks in._ The least appearance, Julio, of my being [_To +Julio+._ Useful to you by staying puts an end To all deliberation for myself; Say, what's the accident? you have me ready. +Don J.+ Such and of such a nature, my Fernando, That, as to be communicated to none But you (another self), so I am sure It will astonish you with the rehearsal. Ah! could you think it possible, that Blanca Should raise disturbance in the heart of Julio, As to the honour of his family? +Don F.+ Heavens forbid! +Don J.+ Never was brother so secure as I, Or so unalterable in his persuasion, Of having a sister of unmatch'd discretion; Nor e'er could less than evidence itself Have shaken such a confidence. +Don F.+ For God's sake, Julio, Hold me no longer in such pain of mind. But, sure, we shall be better there within, Free from the noise of the street. +Don J.+ You say well. [_Exit +Julio+._ +Don F.+ [_As he follows him, aside._] This is what Fabio told me he saw last night, Discovered by some accident to Julio; It can be nothing else. O women, women! [_Exit +Fernando+._ _Enter +Don Pedro+ and +Fulvio+, as in their new lodgings._ +Don P.+ I am glad you have lighted on so fit a place For all I intend, as this is, Fulvio. I shall repair the last night's disappointment By early care this morning: in the meanwhile, Fail not of your part in the discovery Where my enemy dwells, and i' th' observation Of all his motions; that's the important part. +Fulv.+ Rely, sir, on my care and vigilance. [_Exeunt +Don Pedro+ and +Fulvio+._ _Enter +Don Julio+ and +Don Fernando+, as in the outward room of the inn._ +Don J.+ It is a quarter Always reserv'd to my own privacy. There lying unsuspected, if, whilst I Continue late abroad, under pretence Of being at Violante's, you keep watch Carefully within, he cannot 'scape us: So you be sure to observe punctually The sign agreed, and bolting of the doors, When he is once within. +Don F.+ Since you have so resolv'd and laid your business, Dispose of me, and lead the way, whilst I Give Fabio his instruction what to do During my absence. [_Exeunt +Fernando+ and +Julio+._ _Enter +Donna Blanca+ and +Francisca+, as in +Blanca's+ antechamber._ +Fran.+ Since the black cloud, that threaten'd you last night With such a storm, is luckily blown over Without a sprinkling, I hope, madam, you Will imitate the Fates, and grow serene From all those clouds which so much threaten'd others. +Blan.+ Ah! Francisca, canst thou-- [_She stops, seeing +Elvira+ coming._ _Enter +Elvira+, with a fine basin of flowers._ But here's Silvia. O, the sharp thorns she brings me at this time, With flowers in her hand, by the constraint Her presence gives me! [_Aside._ +Elv.+ Madam, I wish the 'ranging of these flowers May be to your mind; but alas, I fear I am too dull for works of fancy. +Blan.+ 'Tis me you find too dull to relish them: Anon they may be welcomer. +Elv.+ I'll wait that happy hour. [_Aside._] She's in ill humour. [_Exit +Elvira+._ +Blan.+ But tell me now, didst ever see, Francisca, So false and bold a creature? The impudence He had to clothe his treachery with new courtships, Provokes me most of all. +Fran.+ Last night indeed, incens'd as you were, madam, I fain would know what air so soft and gentle He could have breath'd, would not have blown the flame Higher and higher; but methinks your pillow Should in so many hours have had some power T' allay and mollify: I then complied (He present) with your anger; but now, madam, You must allow me to speak reason t' you In his behalf, before you go too far, And put things in your passion past recal, Which, that once over, you would give your life To have again. +Blan.+ Pray, think me not so tame. +Fran.+ So tame, say you? I think you wild, I swear, To take so much to heart, what at the most Deserves but some such sparkling brisk resentment, As, once flash'd out in a few choleric words, Ought to expire in a next visit's coyness. +Blan.+ Make you so slight of infidelity? +Fran.+ Cupid forbid! I'd have men true to love; But I'd have women, too, true to themselves, And not rebuke their gallants by requiring More than the nature of frail flesh will bear. I'd have men true as steel; but steel, you know, (The purest and best-polish'd steel) will ply, Urg'd from its rectitude, forsooth; but then With a smart spring comes to its place again. +Blan.+ Come, leave your fooling, and speak soberly. +Fran.+ Why then, in sober sadness, you're i' th' wrong-- I do not say in being angry with him, And nettled at the thing--that's natural. We love no partners, even in what we know We cannot keep all to ourselves: but, madam, To think the worse of him for it: or resolve A breach of friendship for a slight excursion, That were a greater fault than his, who has For one excuse long absence; and in truth Another you'd be sorry he wanted--youth. +Blan.+ You talk as if---- +Fran.+ [_interrupting her._] Stay, madam, I beseech you, And let me make an end: I have not yet Touch'd the main point in his excuse, a suit At court, enough I trow for any dog-trick. +Blan.+ How like a goose you talk! a court pretension! What has that to do, one way or other, With his faith to me? +Fran.+ So one, displeased to find his crawfishes Shrivell'd within and empty, said to his cook (Who laid the fault upon the wane o' th' moon): What has the moon to do with crawfishes? Marry, she has, 'tis she that governs shell-fish; And 'tis as true, in courts that love rules business By as preposterous an influence. +Blan.+ I prythee, make an end, or come to th' point. +Fran.+ Why, then, I'll tell you: you may believe me (Having been train'd up in my youth, you know, In the best school to learn court mysteries, An aunt of mine being mother of the maids), Love holds the rudder, and steers in all courts. How oft, when great affairs perplex the brains Of mighty politicians to conjecture, From whence sprung such designs, such revolutions: Such exaltations, madam, such depressions, Against the rules of their mysterious art; And when, as in surprising works of nature, Reason's confounded, men cry those are secrets Of the high pow'rs above, that govern all Grave lookers on, stroking their beards, would say, What a transcendent fetch of state is this! These are the things that wisdom hides and hatches Under black cap of weighty jobbernowl; I mean Count Olivarez. All the while, We female Machiavels would smile to think, How closely lurking lay the nick of all Under our daughter Doll's white petticoat. +Blan.+ All this, I grant you, may be true, and yet Ne'er make a jot for his excuse, Francisca. His suit had no relation to such matters. +Fran.+ Whate'er the thing be, 'tis all one. D' you think Suits, be they what they will, can be obtain'd By such as pass for fops, as all young men Without a mistress or a confidant Are sure to do there? A sharp-pointed hat (Now that you see the gallants all flat-headed) Appears not so ridiculous as a younker Without a love-intrigue to introduce And sparkify him there. Madam, in short, Allow me once to be sententious: It is a thing that always was, and is, And ever will be, true to the world's end: That, as in courts of justice, none can carry On business well without a procurator, So none in princes' courts their suits make surer, Than those that work them by the best procurer. +Blan.+ [_Smiling a little._] Well, hast done, Francisca? +Fran.+ Madam, I have. +Blan.+ Then letting pass Thy fine reflections politic, now vented To shew thy skill in courts, I'll tell thee freely, I'm not transported in my jealousy So far beyond the bounds of reason, as Not to know well the difference betwixt Such escapades of youth, as only spring From warmth of blood or gales of vanity, And such engagements as do carry with them Dishonour unto those, whose quality And love leave little to the serious part, Once embark'd by them in a gallantry. +Fran.+ I see the clouds disperse. There's no such art Of compassing one's ends with those above us, As that of working them into good humour By things brought in by the by. [_Aside._ Why, surely, madam, unless anger lend you Its spectacles to see things, I cannot think You judge Don Zancho's fault to be any other Than of the first kind, so well stated by you. +Blan.+ Francisca, were I otherwise persuaded, I am not of an humour that could suffer Such parleys for him, much less intercession; But since, upon reflection, I find cause To think what he has done a sally only Of youth and vanity, when I shall find him Sufficiently mortified, I may pardon him. +Fran.+ Heavens bless so sweet a temper! but, madam, Have a care, I beseech you, of one thing. +Blan.+ What's that? +Fran.+ That, whilst your pride of heart Prolongs his readmission, his despair Urge him not to some precipitate attempt That may expose your honour, safe as yet. You see what danger the last night's distemper Had like t' have brought you into: transported lovers, Like angels fallen from their bliss, grow devils. +Blan.+ What, would you have me appear so flexible? Is't not enough I tell you I may pardon him in due time? +Fran.+ Good madam, be advis'd: I do not press you For his sake, but your own. Trust my experience, To women nought's so fatal as suspense; Whose smartest actions ne'er did cast such blot On honour as this--shall I? shall I not? +Blan.+ I'd rather die, than have him think me easy. +Fran.+ Your spirit never can be liable To that suspicion. Madam, leave to me The conduct of this matter, I beseech you: If, ere you sleep, you do not see the gallant Sufficiently humbled at your feet, Ne'er trust Francisca more. +Blan.+ You are so troublesome: do what you will. [_+Blanca+ turns away, and exit as into her closet._ +Fran.+ What, gone away? I'll do what she would have, but dares not say. [_Exit._ _Enter +Don Julio+ and +Elvira+, as in +Blanca's+ chamber._ +Don J.+ Where's my sister, Silvia? [_Looking about him._ +Elv.+ In her closet, sir: As yet not ready. +Don J.+ And where's Francisca? +Elv.+ She's with her, dressing her. +Don J.+ Why then, Elvira, Let me not lose this opportunity Of telling you how sad a man I am To see you in this posture, and to assure you How gladly I would lay down life and fortune To serve you in Don Fernando's absence. +Elv.+ Your generosity I make no doubt of: But is Fernando gone? +Don J.+ I cannot say That he is gone; for he was not himself, With the thought of leaving you, and yet less Himself, whene'er he thought of staying near you; Tortur'd by two such contrary passions, As love and sharp resentment. +Elv.+ He is gone then?---- [_She pauses._ Ah, generous Don Julio, [_Putting her handkerchief to her eyes._ You needs must be indulgent to a weakness Which, whilst that he was present, indignation, And a just sense of what I am, had pow'r To keep within myself; but now I find That check remov'd, nature will have its tribute, And you must pardon my withdrawing, where [_She weeps._ Such grief may pay it with unwitness'd tears. [_Exit Elvira._ +Don J.+ Can a demeanour so compos'd, so noble, And yet so tender, want true innocence? It cannot be. It grieves my heart, I swear, T' have given her new affliction; but the secret Of Don Fernando's close concealment here Is so important, it necessitated My saying what I did, since secrets are Ever kept best by those that know them least. _Enter +Blanca+ and +Francisca+._ Now, high dissimulation play, thy part! [_Aside._ Good morrow, sister, have you rested well? And do you rise serene, as does the sun? Free from distemper, as the day from clouds? Your looks persuade it me, they are so clear And fresh this morning. +Blan.+ The pleasure of seeing you puts life into them, Else they'd be dull enough, this ugly headache Having tormented me all night. You might Have heard me call Francisca up at midnight. +Fran.+ That was well thought on, for 'tis possible He may have heard some noise. [_Aside._ +Don J.+ How cunning she is! [_Aside._ Faith, now you put me in mind of it (I think) 'Twixt sleep and waking, I once heard some stirring. +Blan.+ The worst of my indisposition is, That 'twill, I fear, hinder me again to-day From visiting Violante, to thank her For Silvia. +Don J.+ I charge myself with all your compliments; For this whole afternoon, till late at night, I needs must pass with her, to make amends For yesterday's failings, caus'd, as you know, By Don Fernando's being in town. +Blan.+ I must not hope to see you then again To-day, when once gone out? +Don J.+ Hardly; unless to wait on Violante, In case she come to see you, as 'tis likely, When I shall tell her you are indispos'd: And so farewell. [_Exit +Don Julio+._ +Blan.+ All's well, I see, Francisca, as to him: I wish my heart were but as much at rest In what concerns Don Zancho. +Fran.+ It shall be Your own fault if it be not quickly so, As I'll order the matter. +Blan.+ Take heed you make him not grow insolent, By discovering to him my facility. +Fran.+ I'm too well vers'd to need instructions. +Blan.+ I leave all t' you. But how does Silvia This morning? +Fran.+ I think she has been crying, She looks so dull and moped. +Blan.+ I'll in and see her. [_Exeunt._ _Scene changes to +Don Zancho's+ house. Enter +Don Zancho+, and +Chichon+ limping._ +Don Z.+ What, not yet gone, thou lazy, trifling rascal? +Chi.+ What juster excuse, sir, for not going, Than is a broken leg? +Don Z.+ If you find not your own leg quickly, sirrah, I shall find you a wooden one. +Chi.+ Be as angry as you will, sir, I'll not go Till I have made my conditions: the true time For servants to stand upon points is, when Their masters stand upon thorns. +Don Z.+ What are they, owl's face? +Chi.+ Assurance, sir, but of free air within, With fair retreat upon an even floor; And that it shall not be in a slut's power, After having kept me in a nasty place, To empty me out at window. +Don Z.+ Prythee, Chichon, Ha' done, and miss not th' opportunity By fooling. Unless you take Francisca, Just as she comes from mass, this day is lost, And I lost with it. +Chi.+ Come, I'll hobble to her. Expect a sorry account, but yet a true one; Truth always comes by the lame messenger. [_Exeunt._ _Scene changes to a fine pleasant apartment. Enter +Don Julio+, and knocks, as at the door of his private apartment: +Fernando+ opens the door and lets him in._ +Don F.+ Y' have given me here a very pleasant prison: But what news, my Julio? Are things disposed For clearing of your doubts? My own concerns I cannot think on during your disquiet. +Don. J.+ And I come now so strangely mov'd with yours, I scarce have sense or memory of my own. A heart of adamant could not be hinder'd, I think, from liquefaction into tears, To 've seen and heard Elvira, as I have done, Upon th' occasion of my telling her That you were gone. A sense so gallant and so tender both I never saw in woman. +Don. F.+ Can that high heart descend to tenderness? +Don J.+ Not whilst (you present) noble pride upheld it; But, nature once set free from that constraint, O, how pathetic was her very silence! And the restraint of tears in her swol'n eyes, More eloquent in grief than others' torrents. If she be guilty, all her sex are devils. +Don. F.+ O, say no more; for were there room but left For self-deceit, I might be happy yet. Ah! evidence too cruel to deny me that! [_A noise without._ +Don. J.+ But what can be the noise I hear without-- In the next room? [_+Fernando+ peeps through the key-hole._ +Don F.+ 'Slife! I see Don Pedro, Elvira's father: there's no avoiding him; He'd not a' come up so, without being sure You are within. +Don J.+ Farther put-off would be of little use, Since first or last he must be satisfied, Being come hither upon such an errand. The sooner now we see what 'tis he drives at, The sooner we shall take from thence our measures; I'll therefore go out to him, and be sure To entertain him still so near the door, That you may hear what passes. +Don F.+ I shall be attentive, and expect the issue With much impatience. [_Exit +Don Julio+._ _Scene changes to +Don Julio's+ antechamber. Enter +Don Pedro+ and his Servant, and +Don Julio+ and a Page._ +Don P.+ My business, sir, is to Don Julio Rocca; [_Addressing himself to +Don Julio+._ If you be he, I shall desire the favour Of some few words with you in private. +Don J.+ Sir, I am he to serve you. Page, set chairs. [_He points to the Page, and makes him set the chairs by the door where +Don Fernando+ is, and then the Page and +Don Pedro's+ man retire._ [_They sit down._ +Don P.+ Having not the honour to be known t' you, sir, 'Tis fit this letter make my introduction: 'Tis from the Duke of Medina. [_He gives +Don Julio+ the letter, which he receives with great respect; and going a little aside, reads it._ "Don Pedro de Mendoça, my kinsman and most particular friend, goes to Valencia in pursuit of one who hath highly injured his family, whose righting I am so much concerned in, as, could it have been done without too much publication of the thing, I would have accompanied him myself, but my presence will be needless in a place where you have power: I do therefore conjure you, and expect from your regard and kindness to me, that you employ it thoroughly in his behalf, and what service you shall do him, put it upon my account, whom you shall always find "Your most affectionate cousin to serve you, +The Duke of Medina+." +Don J.+ [_giving the letter to +Don Pedro+, and he taking it._] Sir, it is fit you see how heartily The Duke hath recommended your concernments, Whose will's a law to me. [_+Don Pedro+ having read it, and restoring it._ +Don P.+ He told me, indeed, how very sure he was Of your friendship and dependence. I am proud to find he makes So obliging use of it to my advantage. +Don J.+ I do avow myself his creature, sir; Therefore the sooner you shall let me know In what I may be useful t' you, the sooner You'll see my readiness to serve you. +Don P.+ Your personal reputation, sir, as well As your relation to the duke, assur'd me Beforehand of what I find; and therefore As hard a part as it is for a gentleman Of my blood and temper to become Relater of his own shame, unreveng'd On the author of it, I shall tell you in short: I live under an affront of th' highest nature To the honour of my family; and the person Who did it makes Valencia his retreat. 'Tis against him, Don Julio, That your assistance must support me here: I have already got some notice of him, And when I shall be ascertain'd, I'll repair Again unto you for your friendly aid, And for the present trouble you no farther. [_+Don Pedro+ offers to rise, as going away._ +Don J.+ A little patience, I beseech you, sir. I have express'd my readiness, and be sure I am a man never to fail, where once I have engag'd my word; but, sir, withal You must consider with a fair reflection, That in this place are all my chief relations Of blood and friendship; and though neither shall Have power t' exempt me from the serving you In any just pretension, yet you know That men of honour ever ought to seek, How to comply with one duty without Violating another. +Don P.+ I understand you, sir; and as 'tis that Which well becomes a person of your worth To have reflected on, so it becomes me To satisfy, before I engage you farther. Then give me leave to ask you, whether or no Don Zancho de Moneçes be of the number Of those, towards whom y'are under obligation Either of blood or friendship? [_+Don Julio+ showing some little surprise, but presently recovering._ +Don J.+ Don Zancho de Moneçes, say you? +Don P.+ Sir, the same-- He startled at his name. [_Aside._ +Don J.+ He is a person I have always liv'd In friendly correspondence with, without Any such tie upon me towards him, As ought to hinder my frank serving you. +Don P.+ You have reviv'd me; and since I have now nam'd My enemy, I can conceal no longer The grounds on which he is so. That Don Zancho, About a fortnight since, was late at night Found in my house, run newly through the body, And welt'ring in his blood, ready to expire. I by the outcry brought upon the place, Surpris'd as you may imagine, and enrag'd, Was yet so far master of my passion, As to disdain the owing my revenge To an unknown hand, perhaps as guilty Towards me as was the sufferer. I made Him straight be carried to a surgeon, where I thought it generous to give him life, Then dead, that living I might give him death. Recover'd sooner than I thought, he fled, And with him, as I have reason to believe, My only daughter, who the very night Of the accident was missing. O, the curse Of men, to have their honours subjected To the extravagance of such vile creatures! +Don J.+ [_Sighing._] 'Tis our hard fate indeed. +Don P.+ I presently employ'd all diligence To know what way he took, and having learn'd 'Twas towards this place, hither I have pursued him; Confirm'd in my pursuit by information Along the road, that an unknown gallant Had, with his servant, guarded all the way A conceal'd lady in a coach. And thus, sir, You have the story of my injury; Whereof I doubt not but your generous heart Will wed the just revenge. +Don J.+ You may rely on't, sir, without reserves, To th' utmost of my power. +Don P.+ May the gods reward you The life that you renew to these grey hairs! I'll take my leave at present, and return t' ye, As soon as from the diligences used I shall have clearer lights. +Don J.+ Here you shall find me waiting your commands. [_Exit +Don Pedro+, +Don Julio+ waiting on him out._ _Scene changes. Enter +Don Julio+ and +Don Fernando+, as in the private apartment._ +Don J.+ I hope you overheard us? +Don F.+ All distinctly, And with surprising joy at his mistake. Did ever bloodhound, in a hot pursuit, Run on so readily upon the change? +Don J.+ I hope it bodes good fortune in the rest. +Don F.+ Were e'er two friends engag'd in an adventure So intricate as we, and so capricious? +Don J.+ Sure, never in this world: methinks it merits A special recapitulation. You, at the height of all your happiness, Supplanted with your mistress by a rival You neither knew nor dreamt of, evidence Anticipating jealousy. +Don F.+ And when that rival, fallen by my sword In her own presence, is by miracle Revived, and fitter to serve her than I, That faithless mistress with the same assurance She could have done, had she been true as fair, And for my sake expos'd to fatal hazards, Flies to my arms for her protection. +Don J.+ And whilst that you, refining point of honour, In spite of rage expose yourself to serve her, She asks and takes, with a vow'd indignation To be beholden t' ye, new obligations. +Don F.+ I have recourse unto my only friend, To help me in protecting my false mistress, And he, at the same time, by highest powers [is] Impos'd upon to be her persecutor. +Don J.+ Whilst the same friend, and by the selfsame pow'rs, Is urg'd to act in their revenge against The man, on whom you most desire to take it: And then, to heighten all beyond invention, That very friend is forc'd, even in that instant, To a dependence on your only aid, In his honour's nearest and most nice concerns. +Don F.+ Heaven, sure, delights t' involve us in a kind Of labyrinth will pose itself t' unwind. [_Exeunt._ ACT IV. _Scene changes to the room at +Don Zancho's+. Enter +Don Zancho+, and +Chichon+ at another door, halting still with a staff._ +Don Z.+ What, here again already! have you sped? +Chi.+ Lame as I am, you see I've made good speed In my return, whate'er I've had in my errand. +Don Z.+ Leave, fool, your quibbling, and deliver me From the disquiet of uncertainty. +Chi.+ That's quickly done. Set, sir, your heart at rest From the vain hopes of ever seeing Blanca-- Now you are at ease, I trow? +Don Z.+ You'll be at little, unless you leave your jesting With such edge-tools. Is banishment from her Matter of raillery? Say, sirrah, and say Quickly, what hopes?---- Prythee, if thou lov'st me, [_Kindly._ Hold me no longer in suspense, Chichon. +Chi.+ Why, then, for fear--the devil a bit for love-- I'll tell you, sir, that luckily I met The drab Francisca at the capuchin's, Lodging behind her lady, I think on purpose; For I perceiv'd her eager sparrowhawk's eye, With her veil down (ne'er stirs a twinkling-while From its sly peeping-hole) had found me straight-- took my time i' th' nick, but she outnick'd me; For trudging on, her face another way, With such a voice, as some you have seen have had The trick to draw from caverns of their belly, And make one think it came from a mile off, She made me hear these words: _About twilight Fail not to pass by our door, and ask no more At this time, varlet._ And thus, sir, you see, That neither she nor I have been prolix, For this is all. You have leave to make your comment On a brief text. +Don Z.+ As sweet methinks as short: such words imply Little less than a demi-assignation. +Chi.+ All puddings have two ends,[14] and most short sayings Two handles to their meaning. +Don Z.+ I'm sure I'll still lay hold upon the pleasing'st, Till it be wrested from me: i' th' meanwhile, If any visitants come this afternoon, Be sure to tell them I am gone abroad, That nothing else embark us at the time. You shall not go alone. +Chi.+ I thank you for it-- I cannot go alone. [_Holding up his staff. Exeunt, +Chichon+ halting._ _Scene changes to +Don Julio's+ private apartment. Enter +Don Fernando+ and +Julio+._ +Don J.+ All things are rightly laid, for Violante Will pass the afternoon with Blanca, and then, I waiting on her home in th' evening, Blanca Will be secure from me till late at night. I shall be where I told you, in full view Of those two windows. If the gallant come Up the great stairs, he must pass through that room, And cannot 'scape your knowledge; if up the back one, You needs must see him passing through the entry, Close by that door. If this latter way, Be sure to set the candle in that window: [_Pointing._ If up the other, in that: and in either case, As soon as he's within, fail not to bolt, On th' inside, th' entry-door, and so he may Find no retreat that way, I coming up The other. +Don F.+ Be assured I shall be punctual, As you direct. [_Exeunt._ _Scene changes to +Don Pedro's+ lodging. Enter +Don Pedro+ and his servant +Fulvio+._ +Don P.+ Are you sure of what you say? +Fulv.+ As sure, sir, As my own eyes can make me of what I saw. You cannot doubt my knowing him, since 'twas I (You may remember) fetch'd the surgeon to him, And saw his wounds dress'd more than once or twice. The tavern, where I was, looks into his garden, And there I left him walking to come tell you. +Don P.+ We are well advanc'd then towards my just revenge. I found Don Julio as ready to comply With all the duke's desires as I could wish; And my great fear is over, that Don Zancho Might possibly have been some near relation Of his own: so that now, Fulvio, if you Keep but a careful eye upon his motions, And give me notice, he can hardly 'scape us. +Fulv.+ Doubt not my diligence. [_Exeunt._ _Scene changes to the garden. Enter +Blanca+ and +Francisca+ as in a fine garden with orange-trees and fountains._ +Blan.+ You must have your will; but know, Francisca, If you expose me to his vanity, I never shall forgive you. +Fran.+ I tell you, madam, I will bring him t' ye So mortified, he shall an object be For pity, not for anger: you'll need employ Kindness to erect the poor dejected knight. +Blan.+ It fell out luckily, that Violante Came hither; for, my brother now engag'd With her, we're safe till ten o'clock at least. +Fran.+ But how shall we dispose of Silvia? It will be hard to 'scape her observation, For she has wit, and of the dangerous kind-- A melancholy wit. O the unlucky star, That leads a lady, engaged in love-intrigues, To take a new attendant near her person! +Blan.+ 'Twas an unluckiness; but Violante Could not be denied, I having told her So often that I wanted one; besides, Who could have thought sh' had one ready at hand? But we must make the best on't for this night: 'Twill not be hard to busy her, till 't be late, In the perfuming-room. This near occasion Well o'er, I think it will not be amiss, Against another, to say somewhat to her, That may, in case she have perceiv'd anything, Persuade her she is not distrusted. +Fran.+ Madam, take heed of that: whene'er you find It necessary to say anything, Be sure to say that, that she may think all. Take one rule more from my experience: Nothing so fatal as a confidence By halves in amorous transactions. But here she comes-- _Enter +ELVIRA+._ +Blan.+ Come, Silvia, and take your part of this sweet place; This is a day indeed to taste its freshness. +Elv.+ Madam, I needs must say, within a town I never saw so fine a one. +Blan.+ In truth I think not many sweeter. Those fountains, Playing among the orange-trees and myrtles, Have a fine mix'd effect on all the senses, But think not, Silvia, to enjoy the pleasure Without contributing to make it more. +Elv.+ How can I be so happy? +Blan.+ Francisca tells me she has overheard you Warbling alone such notes unto yourself, As have not only a good voice betray'd, But skill to manage it. +Elv.+ It is Francisca, That has betray'd a very ill one, madam. +Blan.+ Under yon palm-tree's shade, there is a seat That yields to none in the advantages It lends to music: let's go sit down there. For this first time, one song shall satisfy. +Elv.+ When you have heard that one, I shall not fear Your asking me another. [_They go and sit down under the palm-tree, and +Elvira+ sings._ +The Song.+ _See, O, see! How every tree, Every bower, Every flower, A new life gives to others' joys; Whilst that I, Grief-stricken, lie, Nor can meet With any sweet, But what faster mine destroys. What are all the senses' pleasures, When the mind has lost all measures?_ _Hear, O, hear! How sweet and clear The nightingale And waters'-fall In concert join for others' ears; Whilst to me For harmony Every air Echoes despair, And every drop provokes a tear. What are all the senses' pleasures, When the mind has lost all measures?_ +Blan.+ I thank you, Silvia; but I'll not allow One of your youth to nourish melancholy By tunes and words so flattering to that passion. +Elv.+ The happiness of serving you may fit me In time for gayer things. +Blan.+ I will not ask another for the present; Not for your reason, but because I'll be More moderate in my pleasures. Now, Silvia, I have a task to give you. +Elv.+ Whate'er it be, 'twill be a pleasing one, Of your imposing. +Blan.+ 'Tis to gather store of Fresh orange-flowers, and then carefully To shift the oils in the perfuming-room, As in the several ranges you shall see The old begin to wither. To do it well Will take you up some hours; but 'tis a work I oft perform myself; and that you may Be sure not to mistake, I'll go thither With you, and show you the manner of it. +Elv.+ I hope I shall not fail, so well instructed. [_Exeunt._ _Scene changes to the room at +Don Zancho's+. Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+._ +Chi.+ Y'are so impatient, sir, you will mar all: I tell you that 'tis yet too light by half, The sun is hardly set: pray fetch a turn Or two more in the garden, ere you go. +Don Z.+ You must be governor, I see, to-night, You are so proud o' th' service you have done. Come away. [_Exeunt._ _Scene changes to the garden again. +Elvira+ appears in the garden, as gathering flowers from the orange-trees, and then (with her apron full) going away, says_-- +Elv.+ The task enjoin'd me is a sweet one, truly, But I smell somewhat more in the imposal. So far I am happy yet in my misfortune, That I am lighted into a lady's service Of an obliging humour; but (most of all) One that, as kind as she is, I see 's as glad To leave me alone, as I to be it. Somewhat There is mysterious in her looks and conduct: Such motions just, such inequalities, Such flatteries to those I trusted least, Such pretty employments found to busy those I would be rid of, and such arts are these To single out her confidant (unnoted), I well remember would Elvira use, Whilst the unquiet joys of love possess'd her, How innocent soever. And, besides, Francisca's sitting up so late last night, And going up and down so warily, Whilst others slept, is evidence enough What god reigns here, as well as at the court. But I forget myself. Let descants cease, Who serves, though she observes, must hold her peace. [_Exit +Elvira+._ _Scene changes to the prospect of Valencia. Enter +Don Zancho+, with his cloak over his face, and +Chichon+._ +Don Z.+ Advance, Chichon, I'll follow at a distance. 'Tis the right time--just light enough, you see, For warn'd expecters to know one another. I hope she will not fail you. +Chi.+ She fail us! No sentinel _perdu_ is half so alert As she in these occasions. _Enter +Francisca+ veiled, peeping as out of the portal of +Don Julio's+ house._ +Fran.+ There comes the varlet; and I'm much deceived, Or that's his master lagging at a distance-- I'll give them a go-by, cover'd with my veil. [_She passes by them heedlessly._ +Chi.+ By that light, as little as 'tis, 'tis she: I'll to her. +Don Z.+ And I'll stand close the while-- When you have broken the ice, I'll take my time. [+Chichon+, _going to +Francisca+, lays hold of her veil, and she turns about._ +Chi.+ What signifies a veil to hide my doxy, When every motion of a leg or wing Darts round perfuming and informing airs? Thou art the very cauliflower of women. +Fran.+ And thou the very cabbage-stalk of men, That never stank to me, as does a blab. +Chi.+ Curse on thee, hold thy tongue! Dost thou not see, Who stands against that wall? +Fran.+ Away, sauce-box! [_She, thrusting him off, goes on. +Don Zancho+ sets himself just in her way, and makes as if he would lie down in it._ +Don Z.+ Pass, trample on me, do, trample--but hear me! +Fran.+ These shoes have been my lady's, and she'd ne'er Forgive it, should they do you so much honour. [_Showing her foot._ 'Tis thou hast caus'd all this. [_Aside, turning to +Chichon+._ +Chi.+ Fire on thy tongue! +Don Z.+ Ah, my Francisca, if there be no hopes Of pardon, nor of pity, yet at least Let Blanca, for her own sake, be so just As not to give me cruel death unheard: Do you your part at least, and do but give her This letter from me-- [_He offers her a letter, and she starting back_: +Fran.+ _Guarda!_ that's a thing She has forbidden with such menaces, I dare as well become another Porcia,[15] And eat red burning coals. I had much rather Consent that, now she's all alone at home, You should transportedly rush in upon her, As following me: so possibly you might Attain your end without exposing me Who, in that case, know how to act my part So smartly against you, as shall keep her clear From all suspicion. But I am to blame Thus to forget my duty: I'll stay no longer. [_He stops her, and, pulling out a purse of money, puts it into her hand. +Francisca+ offers to restore the purse, but yet holding it fast._ +Don. Z.+ Spoke like an angel. +Fran.+ This is, you know, superfluous with me, And shocks my humour; but anything from you! Be sure you follow boisterously. [_She trudges away, and goes in hastily, as at +Julio's+ house, and +Don Zancho+ follows her in. +Chichon+ stops at the door._ +Chi.+ I'll bring you no ill-luck a second time. If for sport's sake you have projected me Another summersault from the balcony, Make your account that 'tis already done, Here you will find me halting in the street. [_Exit +Chichon+._ _Scene changes to +Donna Blanca's+ antechamber. Enter +Blanca+._ +Blan.+ How true it is that nature cheats mankind, And makes us think ourselves the only tasters Of pure delight and bliss; when as indeed, Oppressing us with pains and griefs, she makes Deliv'rance from them pass for solid pleasure! Witness in me those images of joy, Wherewith she flatters now my expectation: What will its highest satisfaction be At most, but ease from what tormented me? _Enter +FRANCISCA+ hastily._ +Fran.+ It now imports you have affected rage As ready at hand as usually you have Anger in earnest. But, above all, be sure You discharge it smartly upon me; for here He presses at my heels. _Enter +Don Zancho+, and goes to cast himself at +Donna Blanca's+ feet, and she starting back from him._ +Blan.+ What insolence is this? Think not, Francisca, That I am to be fool'd! This is your work: You shall not stay an hour within these walls-- By all that's good, you shall not! +Fran.+ For heaven's sake, madam, be not so unjust [_Whining._ To an old servant, always full of duty. But can I govern madmen? Would y' have had me Make all the street take notice? There he attack'd me With such transportment, the whole town had rung on't, Had I not run away. Could I imagine A man so wild as to pursue me hither Into your presence? +Blan.+ It is well, Don Zancho; [_Severely and scornfully._ Blanca may be thus used; but he that does it Shall find---- [_She turns away as going out, he holds her by the sleeve._ +Don Z.+ Pardon this rudeness, madam, but a man Made desperate hath nothing more to manage. Hither I come to give you satisfaction, And if my reasons can't, my heart-blood shall; But you must hear me, or here see me dead. +Blan.+ Since to be rid of him, Francisca, I see [_Turning to +Francisca+._ I must the penance undergo of hearing him, Keep careful watch to prevent accidents. +Fran.+ Madam, your closet will be much more proper For such a conference; for in case your brother Should come, Don Zancho has a safe retreat From thence down the back-stairs. I shall be sure To give you timely notice. +Don Z.+ And I know perfectly the passage thorough Th' entry; I've come up more than once that way During my happy days. +Blan.+ I think y' have reason; since I must have patience, Light us in thither. [_+Francisca+ takes the lights, and going before them, exeunt omnes._ _Scene changes to the prospect of Valencia. Enter +Don Julio+, as in the portal of his own house._ +Don J.+ The light was in the farther window; therefore He went up this way: now, if Fernando Have not forgot to bolt the entry-door, He cannot 'scape us, sure, whoe'er he be. 'Tis the only comfort, In such misfortunes, when a man hath means To right his honour, without other help Than such a friend as is another self, And that the shame's even from domestics hid, Until it be reveng'd. [_Exit +Don Julio+, as going into his own house._ _Enter +Chichon+, as coming out of the porch before +Don Julio's+ house._ +Chi.+ 'Slight! 'tis Don Julio that I saw go in! My master's like to pass his time but ill; I'll steal in after, and observe: although My courage cannot stead him, my wit may, As things may possibly fall out. [_Exit +Chichon+, as stealing after +Don Julio+ into his house._ _Scene changes to +Donna Blanca's+ closet. Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Donna Blanca+, as in her closet._ +Blan.+ As fine a story as may be! No, Don Zancho, I, Blanca Rocca, am not carta blanca,[16] Fit to receive whate'er impression Your art---- _Enter +Francisca+ hastily._ +Fran.+ Your brother's in the hall already; Quick, quick, and let him find you in your chamber Before your glass, I have set it ready there, Whilst he retires the way it was resolv'd. [_Pointing to +Don Zancho+._ [_+Francisca+ takes the candle, and exeunt she and +Donna Blanca+; +Don Zancho+, another way._ _Scene changes to +Donna Blanca's+ bed-chamber. Re-enter +Donna Blanca+ and +Francisca+, as in +Blanca's+ chamber, she newly seated at her toilet, and beginning to unpin._ _Enter +Don Julio+._ +Don J.+ Blanca, I thought you had been abed ere this. Have you had company to entertain you, And keep you up beyond your usual hour? +Blan.+ What company can I have, you abroad, At this time of the night? +Don J.+ I fain would find out some such as might please you. [_Ironically._ Francisca, take a candle and light me in To Blanca's closet. +Blan.+ Good brother, what's the matter? You were not wont to be so curious, As thus to pry into my privacies. +Don J.+ That you shall know anon. Do as I bid you, Francisca. [_+Francisca+ takes one of the candles, and going before him stumbles, and falling puts out the light. +Don Julio+, taking it up, lights it again at the other on the table, and going with it himself towards +Donna Blanca's+ closet._ These tropes are lost on me. [_Exit._ +Fran.+ Let him go, now we have gain'd time enough. +Blan.+ Thanks to thy timely fall! +Fran.+ Persons employ'd In such trusts must have their wits about them. 'Tis clear that he suspects, but know--he cannot. When once you see all safe, 'twill then import you To play the tyrant over him, with reproaches For this his jealousy. +Blan.+ Let me alone for that. But let us follow him in, that we may mark His whole demeanour. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Don Zancho+ in disorder._ +Don Z.+ Curse on't, the entry-door's bolted within, What shall I do? [_He pauses._] I must seek a way, Through the perfuming-room into the garden. [_Exit._ _Enter +Don Julio+, with a candle in his hand, and passing hastily over the stage._ +Don J.+ He must be gone this way, there is no other; The entry-door was bolted. _Enter +Donna Blanca+ and +Francisca+, who pass over the stage, as if stealing after +Don Julio+._ +Fran.+ All's safe: he takes that way. Let him, a God's name, Follow his nose to the perfuming-room. +Blan.+ He'll fright poor Silvia out of her wits; But I'll come to her succour with a peal Will ring him. [_Exeunt +Donna Blanca+ and +Francisca+._ _Scene changes to the laboratory. Here is to open a curious scene of a laboratory in perspective, with a fountain in it, some stills, many shelves, with pots of porcelain and glasses, with pictures above them: the room paved with black and white marble, with a prospect through pillars at the end, discovering the full moon, and by its light a perspective of orange-trees, and towards that farther end +Elvira+ appears at a table, shifting flowers, her back turned._ _Enter +Don Zancho+ hastily: +Elvira+ turning about, they both startle, and stand awhile as it were amazed._ +Don Z.+ O heavens! what is't I see? 'Tis mere illusion, Or 'tis the devil in that angel's form, Come here to finish by another hand The fatal work that she began upon me By Don Fernando's. +Elv.+ Good gods! Don Zancho here! it cannot be! Or 'tis his ghost, come to revenge his death On its occasioner; for, were he alive, He could not but have more humanity Than (having been my ruin at Madrid, And robb'd me of my home and honour there) To envy me an obscure shelter here. [_Whilst they amazed step back from one another, enter +Don Julio+, who, seeing +Don Zancho+ with his back towards him, drawing his sword, says_-- +Don J.+ Think not (whoe'er thou art), by flying thus From room to room, to 'scape my just revenge. Shouldst thou retire to th' centre of the earth, This sword should find thee there, and pierce thy heart. [_Throwing down the candle, he makes towards +Don Zancho+; but upon his turning about towards him, he makes a little stop, and says_-- Nay then, if it be you, I'm happy yet In my misfortune, since the gods thus give me The means at once, and by the self-same stroke, To right my honour, and revenge my friend; And, by that action, fully to comply With what the Duke requires in the behalf Of wrong'd Don Pedro. [_+Don Julio+ makes at +Don Zancho+: he draws, and they begin to fight; +Elvira+ crying out_, Help! help! _runs to part them, and they stop upon her interposing._ _Enter +Don Fernando+ hastily over the stage, as coming from the private apartment._ +Don F.+ I hear an outcry and [a] clattering of swords. My friend (engag'd) must find me by his side. [_Exit, and re-enters at another door._ [_As +Fernando+ comes to the door of the perfuming-room, seeing them at a stand, he stops and stands close._ +Don F.+ They are parleying: let's hear. [_Aside._ [_+Blanca+ and +Francisca+ passing over the stage._ +Blan.+ 'Twas Silvia's voice: my heart misgives me somewhat. +Fran.+ 'Tis some new accident or some mistake; Don Zancho cannot but be safe long since. +Blan.+ However let us in, and see. [_Exeunt +Blanca+ and +Francisca+, and re-enter as at another door of the perfuming-room, and make a stand, as surprised with what they see._ +Blan.+ We are all undone, I fear. +Fran.+ A little patience. [_+Chichon+ stealing over the stage._ +Chi.+ The noise is towards the perfuming-room, I know the back-way to it through the garden. [_Exit +Chichon+, and re-enters at the farther end of the laboratory, and stands close._ +Don Z.+ Wit must repair the disadvantages I'm under here, and save my Blanca's honour. That once secur'd, there will be time enough To save Elvira's. [_Aside._ [_Whilst this passes, +Elvira+ holds +Julio+ by the arm, he striving to get from her._ Since, by this lady's interposing thus, You have thought fit our swords should pause awhile, It may (I think) consist enough with honour So far to seek your satisfaction, sir, As to remove mistakes. Know then, Don Julio, That, though I have presum'd upon your house, I have not wrong'd your honour: it is she, With whom you find me, that hath brought me hither; Her I have long ador'd, and, having got Intelligence that she was here conceal'd, My passion (I confess) transported me Beyond that circumspection and regard, Which men of quality use, and ought t' observe Towards one another's dwellings. +Don J.+ Good gods, what an adventure's here! Yet all Is well, so Blanca's honour be but safe. [_Aside._ Sir, you surprise me much; can this be true? [_To +Don Zancho+._ +Blan.+ Francisca, heard you that? had ever man So ready a wit in such an exigent? [_Aside._ +Don J.+ [to +Elvira+.] What say you, madam? +Fran.+ We're surer lost than ever, unless she Have wit and heart to take the thing upon her. [_Aside._ Madam, make signs to her, and earnestly. [_To +Blanca+._ [_+Blanca+ makes earnest signs to +Elvira+._ +Fran.+ [_aside to +Blanca+._] She looks this way, as if she comprehended Your meaning. +Elv.+ I understand her, and I know as well What mischief I may bring upon myself; But let Elvira still do generously, And leave the rest to fate. [_Aside._] Sir, since you press me, [_To +Don Julio+._ My humour ne'er could disavow a truth: Don Zancho's passion and transportments for me, Beyond all rules of temper and discretion, Have been the cause of all my sad misfortunes, And still I see must be the cause of more. +Don J.+ Unhappy creature! how thou hast deceiv'd My prone persuasion of thy innocence! +Don Z.+ If that suffice not, sir, you have this ready To give you satisfaction. [_Holding out his sword._ +Don F.+ Hell and furies!--but I will yet contain Myself, and see how far my friend will drive it. [_Aside._ +Don J.+ Stay, Don Zancho, And answer me one question. Is this night The first of your presuming thus to enter My house by stealth? +Don Z.+ The query is malicious; But I must thorough, as I have begun. [_Aside._ +Blan.+ [_Aside to +Francisca+._] There was a question makes me tremble still. +Don Z.+ No, sir, it is not: I'll keep nothing from you. Last night upon the same occasion---- +Don J.+ Hold! it suffices. +Fran.+ [_Aside hastily to +Blanca+._] All's safe, you see: for God's sake, let's away Ere Julio perceive us. Your presence here can serve for nothing, madam, But to beget new chances and suspicions. [_Exeunt +Blanca+ and +Francisca+. +Don Fernando+ rushes out, drawing his sword._ +Don F.+ Yes, it suffices, Julio, to make This hand strike surer than it did before. +Elvira.+ Nothing was wanting to my misery, But his being here to overhear; but yet I must not suffer the same hand to kill him A second time, upon a greater error Than was the first. [_Aside. +Don Fernando+ making at +Don Zancho+; +Elvira+ steps between, and +Julia+ also offers to stay him._ +Don F.+ [_Striving to come at +Don Zancho+._] Strive to protect your gallant from me, do! Strive, but in vain: the gods themselves cannot! What, you, Don Julio, too? [+Chichon+, _running out from the place where he lurked, strikes out both the lights with his hat._ +Chi.+ I have lov'd to see fighting; but at present I love to hinder seeing how to fight. Knights, brandish your blades, 'twill make fine work Among the gallipots! [_Aloud._ You have me by your side, sir, let them come; They are but two to two. [_As to his master._ Sir, follow me, I'll bring you to the door. [_Aside to his master, and pulling him._ +Don Z.+ There's no dishonour in a wise retreat From disadvantages, to meet again One's enemy upon a fairer score. [_+Chichon+ pushing his master before him out of door._ +Chi.+ [_Aside to his master._] There 'tis; advance, sir, I'll make good the rear. [_Exit +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+._ +Don J.+ Ho! who's without? bring lights. [_He stamps._] They annot hear us, The room is so remote from all the rest.-- What a confusion's this! Recall, Fernando, Your usual temper, and let's leave this place, And that unhappy maid unto its darkness, To hide her blushes, since her shame it cannot. [_Exit +Don Julio+ groping, and drawing +Don Fernando+ with him._ +Elv.+ [_Alone._] Darkness and horror welcome, since the gods Live in the dark themselves; for had they light Of what's done here below, they would afford Some ray to shine on injur'd innocence, And not, instead thereof, thus multiply Obscuring clouds upon it, such as the sun, Should he with all his beams illuminate Men's understandings, scarce could dissipate. I now begin to pardon thee, Fernando, Since what thou hast heard in this enchanted place Carries conviction in 't against my firmness, Above the pow'r of nature to suspend My condemnation: unless wrong'd virtue might Expect in thee a justice so refin'd, As ne'er was found in man to womankind. 'Tis now, I must confess, the lost Elvira Fit only for a cloister, where, secure In her own spotless mind, she may defy All censures, and without impiety Reproach her fate even to the deity. [_Exit, groping her way._ FOOTNOTES: [14] [The proverb is, Everything hath an end, and a pudding hath two.] [15] [The wife of Brutus.] [16] [_i.e._, A fool. See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 38.] ACT V. _Enter +Don Julio+ talking to himself, and at another door +Fernando+ who, perceiving it, stands close._ +Don J.+ Bless'd be the gods that yet my honour's safe Amidst such strange perplexities, from which Fortune and wit (I think) together join'd, With all their strength, could hardly an issue find. To temper, comfort, or to serve my friend What argument? what means? how to assist Don Pedro in his aims, and to comply With what I owe the duke, I see as little; And less conceive, how to behave myself, As ought a gentleman towards a lady, With whose protection he hath charg'd himself, And brought her to his house on that assurance; Whom to expose cannot consist with honour, However she may have expos'd her own; And (least of all) how to repair to Blanca The injury I have done her, whose high spirit, I fear, will be implacable. O heavens! What a condition's mine? [_He stands pausing, and startles, seeing +Don Fernando+._ _Enter +Don Fernando+._ +Don F.+ Pardon, dear cousin, if, to avoid one rudeness, I have another unawares committed. Whilst fearing t' interrupt, I have o'erheard; Yet nothing, cousin, but the self-same things My thoughts have been revolving all this night, Concern'd for you, much more than for myself; For I, upon reflection, find I am Much easier than I was; by certainty Freed from the sorest weight, perplexity. In the first place you must forgive your friend The high distemper of last night's transportments: I hope you'll find me well recovered from them, And that my morning resolutions are Such as will make amends. +Don J.+ Make no excuses, dear friend: such provocations Surprising are above philosophy; And 'tis no small experiment of yours, If after them you can have brought yourself So soon to fix a judgment what to do. +Don F.+ I have fix'd on that, which I am sure will serve All interests but my own, as heretofore I understood my happiness; but now I shall no longer place it in anything Dependent on the wild caprice[17] of others. No, Julio, I will be happy even in spite of fate, By carrying generosity up to th' height. Elvira shall her dear bliss owe to me, Not only by desisting, but by making Her lov'd Don Zancho marry her: his refusal Alone can make me kill him o'er again. +Don J.+ Since that unhappy maid, with all her beauty And that high quality, hath made herself Unworthy of your marriage, certainly None but Fernando ever could have pitch'd Upon so noble a thought: but think withal, What difficulties are likely to obstruct it! +Don F.+ Say what occurs to you. +Don J.+ Don Zancho is a man of wit and courage; And though his passion out of doubt be great, Since it hath made him do so wild an action, As that of coming twice into my house After so strange a manner; yet, Fernando, You cannot but imagine such a one Likely to have quite different reflections Upon Elvira's conduct for a wife, From what he has upon it for a mistress: They are two notions very differing. Besides, should the proposal but appear In the least kind to spring from your desire, Whose former commerce with her's not unknown, It were the only way to drive him off Past all recal. I think few have accepted Wives recommended to them by their rival. +Don F.+ In that y' have reason, I confess; but, Julio, Think of the way; for marry her he must, Or die, and by no other hand but mine. +Don J.+ [_Pausing._] I am thinking of it, and, I hope, to purpose.[18] What interposer can be found so fit As Blanca in this business, since Don Zancho Has long been her particular acquaintance? And what can be more natural, than for her To take to heart Elvira's chief concernment, Whom he finds here retir'd in her misfortune, As to her surest friends? +Don F.+ Y' have lighted, cousin, on the only way; And lose no time, I beg you. +Don J.+ The least that may be; but you must consider In what a predicament I am likely To be with Blanca at present. +Don F.+ I understand you (since the jealousy You expressed of her); but 'tis to be hoped The peace will not be long a-making. +Don J.+ You little know her spirit, once inflam'd. But as I'll lose no time, so I'll omit No art to bring her to a temper fit To hear and to advance the proposition. +Don F.+ Heaven give you good success! +Don J.+ [_Turning back to +Fernando+._] I had forgot to tell you that I think It will be necessary that, as soon As I have weather'd Blanca's storm, I make A visit to Don Pedro, to prevent His coming hither to disorder us, Before we have set [all] things right. +Don F.+ 'Twas not ill thought on: and till you return I shall keep close in your apartment; For Blanca has not seen me, and Elvira Has too great cares upon her to be curious. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Blanca+ and +Francisca+; +Blanca+ with a gay air, as in her antechamber._ +Blan.+ Say, my Francisca, can romances equal Our last night's adventure? was there ever Such a come-off! Our sex has us'd to boast Presence of mind in exigents of love; But I believe none of us ever match'd Don Zancho's readiness in an occasion So sudden and so critical. +Fran.+ Ever give me the man of ready parts. +Blan.+ But prythee, whilst we give Don Zancho 's dues, Let us be just, too, to poor Silvia's merit; Was ever anything so generous Or so obliging to a mistress! +Fran.+ So it appears, madam, I must confess; But the excess of it makes it suspicious. +Blan.+ Fie, leave this humour of detracting still, And call her to me, that I may embrace, And thank her; that done, consider how To bring her off, who's brought us off so well. [_Offers to go out._ _Enter +Don Julio+._ +Fran.+ Stay, I beseech you, and compose yourself To act a part quite of another nature; Here comes Don Julio, towards whom I hope You'll tune yourself to a far differing key From that of thanks and kindness. +Blan.+ Let me alone for that: I'll play the dragon. [_As +Don Julio+ advances, +Blanca+ turns from him with a furious countenance, and flies out of the room, +Don Julio+ following her._ +Don J.+ Dear sister, stay, and hear me. +Blan.+ Detested brother, leave me. [_She makes as if she were going, and he holds her._ +Don J.+ Hear me but, Blanca, and then vent your passion Against a brother that condemns himself As much as you can do; but hear me speak. +Blan.+ Your actions, Julio, have spoke loud enough To echo through the world your shame and mine. Has all the tenor of my life been such, With such exactness of unblemish'd conduct, That malice might have stain'd the noonday sun More easily than tarnish'd Blanca's honour, And must that honour now be prostitute By the caprice of an unworthy brother? Should any other have invaded it, Had not you righted her, she has a heart Would have found ways to right herself; but you Th' aggressor, what remedy but rage? [_She flings from him and exit._ +Fran.+ She acts it rarely. [_Aside._ +Don. J.+ Was ever man so unfortunate as I? [_To +Francisca+._ I must confess she has reason, and the sense She thus expresses of my fault becomes her; But it must be your work, my dear Francisca, To pacify. When once you shall but know All that has pass'd these nights, I am certain You'll say no human confidence could e'er Be proof against such circumstances. +Fran.+ Alas! my offices can signify But little. But I'm sure the occasion Gives me a sad heart. O my dear lady! [_As if she were crying._ +Don J.+ I love good-nature; but I prythee, leave, And come in with me, that I may tell thee all. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Don Pedro+ and +Fulvio+, as in his lodging._ +Don P.+ A' God's name, Fulvio, what has been thy meaning, To make me sit up almost all last night Expecting thee, when such impatience held me? Thou wert not wont to be so negligent In things of so great weight. +Fulv.+ Nor have I been it now: 'tis overcare Of your commands hath held me so long from you. You know the orders that you gave me, sir, To watch Don Zancho's motions? accordingly I sat all day in my observing-place, Till about twilight I saw him and 's man Steal as it were abroad: I as warily Dogg'd them from street to street, till, sir, at length He made a stand up close against a wall, Whilst that his servant entertain'd a woman Close-veil'd, who was come out, I think, on purpose, From an adjacent house; soon after, he Accosted her himself. Their conference Lasted but little; she made haste away To th' house from whence she came, and he as much To follow her in. +Don P.+ Where was't? and why cam'st thou not presently, To give me notice, as you were directed? +Fulv.+ At that you will not wonder, when you know Whose house he enter'd; but at this you'll wonder-- It was Don Julio's. +Don P.+ [_Starting._] Ha! Don Julio's, say'st thou?-- [_He pauses._ But, now I think on't, 'tis no marvel, Fulvio, Since newly come to town; for I remember Don Julio told me, that Don Zancho and he Had always liv'd in friendly correspondence. +Fulv.+ Visits, sir, only of fair civility, After long absence, are not usually Begun by twilight in such cautious manner; Nor usher'd in by female veil'd conductors. But pray, sir, hear the rest. +Don P.+ What can this be? [_Aside._] Say on then quickly. [_To +Fulvio+._ +Fulv.+ I presently concluded with myself That, since Don Julio was the friend on whose Assistance you relied against Don Zancho, You ne'er would think, sir, of attacking him, As he came out from thence: I judg'd it, therefore, My wisest course to stay, and mark the issue. And stay I did, till it was after midnight; About which time, walking from side to side, That I might see both issues of the house, It being as light almost as day, I saw The gallant and his man leap from the wall Of Julio's garden, and from thence in haste Make home. +Don P.+ 'Sdeath, man, thou dream'st! Don Zancho from Don Julio's In that manner? Awake, fool, and speak sense. +Fulv.+ I say but what I saw, as I see you. +Don P.+ O, the devil! what, the same villain Found the affronter of my friend too here In the same kind! Give me my cloak and sword, I must know the bottom of this. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Blanca+ and +Francisca+, as in her antechamber._ +Blan.+ I come from seeing and caressing Silvia; But with most strange surprise at her comportment Towards me. +Fran.+ How, madam! +Blan.+ My words and actions both expressing to her, Not only highest gratitude and kindness, But a solicitude in the concerns Of her honour, equal to what she had shown In mine, they were receiv'd with such a coldness, With such an air of melancholy pride, With half replies, and those not half to th' purpose, As make me with amazement to conclude, That either she has lost her understanding, Or that there's somewhat in't we understand not. +Fran.+ She is a maid of an odd composition; And besides that, I needs must tell you, madam, That having had my observation freer Than you, perhaps, during last night's adventure, I remark'd somewhat, both in her demeanour And in Don Zancho's, makes me confident They met not there strangers to one another, As you imagine. But there's time enough To think and talk of that: what presses now, Is your right ordering of Don Julio: You have begun as well as can be wish'd. +Blan.+ Say, did I not do my part? [_Jollily._ +Fran.+ Beyond imagination; But take heed now of overdoing it, 'Tis time to tack about to reconcilement, And thought of drawing those advantages From the embroilment, as may for the future Secure you from like accidents. +Blan.+ You say well; but how? +Fran.+ The first step must atonement be between you, Of which he hath so earnestly conjur'd me To be an instrument that, you consenting To give him a hearing through my mediation, I am made for ever, and settled in the power Of serving you by better cosening him: Besides, he tells me, he hath that to say And to propose unto you, as shall not only Excuse him with you, but prevent all danger Of prejudicial rumours, which might rise From last night's accident. +Blan.+ Agreed; let's in, And play the second part. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Don Zancho+ and +Chichon+, as in his own house._ +Don Z.+ Were we not born with cauls upon our heads?[19] [_Jollily._ Think'st thou, Chichon, to come off twice a-row Thus rarely from such dangerous adventures? +Chi.+ Rather, I think, with combs, so oft to venture. +Don Z.+ Thou coxcomb, say, had I not my wits about me? +Chi.+ 'Twere too uncomplaisant to deny that. You know I love not to talk seriously, But tell me now in earnest, are you satisfied To have come off so? is there no qualm remaining Upon your gentle heart for leaving i' th' suds A poor distressed virgin? Who she is, I neither know nor care; but I am sure, Had generous Chichon, to save his life, Play'd a sweet innocent lady such a trick, He would have pass'd but for a recreant knight; And much the more, she having shown herself So gallant as, to save her lady's honour, T' expose her own. Say, true Don Galor,[20] say, Were your part found in a romance or play, Whose character would it not dislustre? +Don Z.+ How soon a fool's bolt's shot without distinction? Of what's the mark! Thou censur'st without knowing, Who th' exposed lady is. Know, then, Chichon, And wonder! 'tis Elvira!--that Elvira For whom I sighed like to have sigh'd my last, On her score at Madrid--Don Pedro's daughter. +Chi.+ You raise enchanted castles in the air; But were it as you say, that makes the thing More inexcusable. You had been to blame T' have us'd a stranger so; but so t' have serv'd A lady[21] you had once profess'd to love, Raises the fault above all heightening. +Don Z.+ Nay, then, I see I must once play the fool, In answering a fool seriously. The things thou say'st are heightenings indeed, Not of my fault, but merit in the action, Towards my Blanca; since, to save her honour, I did not only sacrifice Elvira's, But thus expose mine own. Time may recover Elvira's fame, and mine this quickly shall. [_Clapping his hand on his sword._ Here, take this letter, and employ your wit In finding out the means with secrecy To give it Don Fernando unobserv'd. I shall not stir from home, till I've his answer. +Chi.+ You found him, sir, a man of quick dispatch, In your last business with him at Madrid! [_Exit +Don Zancho+._ How honourable 'tis to serve a Don! What petty Basque on t' other side the mountains Durst have aspir'd to the high dignity Of carrying a cartel? A monsieur Would sooner have put up a twinge by the nose, Than sent a challenge by a serving-man. [_Exit._ _Enter +Blanca+ furiously, and, running to the cabinet, takes out thence a stiletto; and +Francisca+ earnestly after her, as in +Blanca's+ closet._ +Blan.+ Villains shall find I am not unprovided Wrongs to revenge, that cannot be forgiven. +Fran.+ I thought the strange constraint upon herself, Wherewith she heard her brother, would serve in the end But to make rage break out with greater fury; Yet it is well she kept it in so long As to get rid of him. [_Aside._ Good madam, moderate yourself a little. +Blan.+ Preach temper to the damned souls in hell, That they may teach the traitor moderation, When I have sent him thither with his devil. +Fran.+ I do confess the provocation such, As more than justifies all these transportments; And therefore I beseech you think not, madam, In what I say, I can the least aim have Of saving him from the extremest fury Of your resentment, or preserving her, Who has had the impudence to abuse you so, Under pretence of serving. May they perish! But let it be in such a way, as may not Draw a more dismal ruin on yourself: Let swift destruction seize them; yet let not, Madam, your hand, but head dispense their fate. What can the issue be of such an action, As that of which I see that shining steel And flaming eyes of yours the threat'ning comets? I beg but the reflection of a moment! [_+Blanca+ walking upon the stage with enraged gestures pauses, at length sheathing and putting her stiletto in her sleeve with a sober, composed, tone_: +Blan.+ Francisca, I thank you for recalling me Thus to myself: I will be temperate, [_Aside._] But it shall be to make revenge the surer. +Fran.+ Her tone nor gestures cannot cosen me, They both seem to disguise a black design; But I shall watch you: 'tis a half-gain'd cause In fury's course to have begot a pause. [_Aside._ +Blan.+ Do what I bid you presently, Francisca. Send to Don Zancho, and let him know from me, I earnestly desire to speak with him. +Fran.+ Lord, madam, what d'ye mean? +Blan.+ To make the pleasing proposition to him, As I told my brother I would. Say, am I not moderate? But do without reply, what I command. +Fran.+ Madam, I shall obey. But [_aside_] observe you so withal, As to prevent the mischief, if I can. [_Exit +Francisca+._ +Blan.+ Ye gods, assist me in my just revenge, Or you will make an atheist. My first work Must be, before Don Zancho comes, to speak With his sweet mistress; and with words and looks, As false as hers have been, so to delude her With hopes of what she wishes, that they both May jointly fall my honour's sacrifice. [_Exit._ _Enter +Don Fernando+, as in +Don Julio's+ private apartment._ +Don F.+ Since generosity hath so far got The mastery, as to have made me fix Upon a resolution so unheard of, I long to see it executed. But stay: I think I hear Elvira's voice without, And Blanca's too. Here curiosity To overhear is pardonable. [_He makes as if he hearkened, and then exit, as to go where he may better hear._ _Enter +Elvira+ and +Blanca+ as in the antechamber, and +Fernando+ peeping as from behind a door._ +Don F.+ Here not a word can 'scape me. +Elv.+ Madam, you wrong my zeal in serving you, Whilst you attribute to any other motive My yesterday's behaviour. +Blan.+ Such niceties, Elvira, are, out of season. [_In a tone that may show what she says to be forced._ I seek your satisfaction in a love, Wherein it seems you have been long engag'd. [_+Elvira+ looking round, and +Fernando+ starting back._ +Don F.+ I hope she did not see me. [_Aside._ +Elv.+ My satisfaction, say you, in my love? Of whom, for heaven's sake? If you mean Don Zancho, Y'are very far from guessing at my thoughts. +Don F.+ By heaven, sh' has seen me, and plays the devil still. [_Aside._ +Elv.+ By all that's good, I am far from loving him-- I say not worse [_aside_], because I know she loves him. +Don F.+ Ah, Elvira! this is too much, yet not enough To change in me a noble resolution. [_Aside._ [_A noise is heard, as of people coming up stairs._ +Blan.+ I hear some coming up stairs: should it be Don Zancho, I am not yet ready for him.-- [_Aside._ I see we are likely to be interrupted here, [_To +Elvira+._ Elvira, we shall be better in my closet. [_Exit +Blanca+._ +Elvi.+ Madam, I'll follow you. What can she mean? since that she needs must think I know the passion she herself[22] has for him. [_+Elvira+ having stayed awhile behind, as she is going to follow +Blanca+, enter her father +Don Pedro+ and +Fulvio+: she starts, and stands confounded; he, seeing her, draws out his dagger, and makes at her._ +Don P.+ Vile stainer of my blood, have I here found thee? [_+Elvira+ perceiving the door a little open, where +Don Fernando+ is, flies thither, and gets in._ +Don F.+ This makes it clear she saw me. [_Aside, as +Elvira+ thrusts in._ [_+Don Pedro+ seizes the door, before it be quite shut, and they struggle, he to pull it open, and +Don Fernando+ to shut it: after some contest, +Don Fernando+ gets it close, and bolts it within: +Don Pedro+, as an enraged person, pulls and bounces at the door._ +Don P.+ In vain should mountains interpose between Her and her punishment. [_He bounces still, as to break down the door._ _Enter +Blanca+._ +Blan.+ What Bedlam have we here, and where's Elvira? +Don P.+ You have one here will know how to revenge Conspiracies t' affront him: and you, lady, Whoe'er you are, that seem to take upon you, Y' had best produce the wicked thing you've named, Or by this steel-- [_+Blanca+ cries out._ +Blan.+ Ho! brother, brother! help against a madman! _Enter +Don Julio+._ +Don J.+ Peace, Blanca, peace, you know not what you say: Don Pedro is master here. +Blan.+ I know not your Don Pedro; but I'm sure One to be tied in chains could do no more, That he has done. +Don J.+ Have patience, sister: 'tis Elvira's father, With cares enough upon him to justify Any distemper. +Blan.+ Precious! Elvira's father?-- Nay, then I leave you. [_+Blanca+ flings out of the room._ +Don F.+ O the unluckiness of his coming So unseasonably! 'Twas to prevent that, I went abroad to seek him. [_Aside._ +Don P.+ What's this, Don Julio? can a gentleman Of blood and honour use another thus? What, after such engagements to the Duke And to myself to be my friend and helper, To prove the shelter of my shame's chief author? I do not wonder now Don Zancho himself Should have been here at midnight. +Don J.+ I am hard put to't: help, wit, to bring us off. [_Aside._ Be as distemper'd as you please, Don Pedro, It shall not alter me! but yet methinks It would not ill become your gravity, To think a while, before you make a judgment, And rashly frame injurious conclusions From things, wherein a friend has merited from you. Do but consider, and then say, what Julio Could do of more advance to what you wish, Than, having found your daughter, to have brought her To his own house, where she might be with honour Accompanied, and serv'd as such by Blanca, Until such time as, things maturely weigh'd, You should a final resolution take. And since Don Zancho's being here last night, I see 's no secret t' ye, methinks you ought T' have been so just to me, as to believe That, since I admitted him within these walls, It was in order to the serving you. +Don P.+ Noble Don Julio, you must pity have Of an old man's distemper in affliction. I see I was in the wrong; pray, pardon it. +Don J.+ O, this is more than needs. And now, good sir, If you'll be pleas'd to walk a turn or two I' the garden, I'll there give you a full account How I have laid things for your satisfaction. +Don P.+ I'll wait on you. +Don J.+ Go, sir, there lies your way; And you, boy, fail not, when Don Zancho comes, [_Turning to the Page._ To give me notice of it in the garden. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Don Zancho+, and passes over the stage with +Chichon+ after him: and enter +Francisca+, and pulling +Chichon+, stays him._ +Fran.+ Stay, stay, Chichon, a word w' ye: it imports-- [_She whispers with him._ +Chi.+ I hope you are not in earnest. +Fran.+ By my soul, I am-- There is no other way, but for us both To get up the back-way, and there to watch The time to interpose. +Chi.+ Can she be such a fury? her looks are All milk and honey. +Fran.+ You cannot fancy anything so tragic, But she is capable of executing, When once provok'd in point of love and honour Beyond her bounds of temper. +Chi.+ Lead the way-- I'll have the pleasure to bold up the fright [_Aside._ She's in, since I am sure there is no danger, Knowing, as I do, my master's mind towards Blanca: Besides, 'tis to be hop'd, that these disorders May produce somewhat that may put an end To my master's quarrel, or afford me means To give Fernando his letter. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Don Fernando+, +Elvira+ lying upon the couch in the private apartment._ +Don. F.+ This last dissimulation moves me more Than all the rest; but yet it must not alter What honour hath inspir'd. See, how she lies, And how, scarce brought to life from her dismay, She resumes scorn, to have been sav'd by me! But multiply what injuries thou wilt, Perfidious maid, thou shalt not disappoint Fernando of the glory that he aims at: Of making thy proud heart, Elvira, owe Its happiness to him. But I hear again [_He peeps_ A noise without--It is Don Zancho, And I see Blanca coming towards him. This falls out luckily, that I may hear What passes; for certainly their meeting Avowedly thus can be no other subject, But what Don Julio has proposed to Blanca. [_Exit as to hearken._ _Enter +Don Julio+ and +Don Pedro+, as in the garden._ +Don J.+ That's all the remedy, that in these cases The wisest can propose unto themselves: His fortune's strait, 'tis true. +Don P.+ That's what I least regard in this occasion, So honour be but safe: the less they have, The more will be her penance for her folly. But should Don Zancho, upon any umbrage From what has pass'd between them, prove so insolent As to reject the marriage, then I trust-- +Don J.+ O, say no more of that: rely upon't, Should he be guilty of that horrid outrage, This sword should pierce his heart, though th' only friend I have i' the world should interpose his own. And, sir, to let you see my frank proceeding, Come along with me; I'll bring you to a place Where, jointly overhearing all that passes 'Twixt him and Blanca, should he play the villain, His life may pay for't, ere he stir from thence. +Don P+. May heaven repay such generous acts of friendship! [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Don Zoncho+, and +Fernando+ appears as behind the door._ +Don Z.+ For her so suddenly and so avowedly To send for me hither, is very strange: What can it mean? _Enter +Blanca+._ +Blan.+ Now lend me temper, Heaven, but for a moment, Till calmly I have drawn him to pronounce The sentence of his own too noble death For such a traitor-- [_Aside._ I think you come not without some surprise, [_To him with an affected cheerfulness._ Don Zancho, at my sending for you so: But let's sit down, for I have much to say t' ye. [_She takes him by the hand and seats him in one chair, and she sits herself in the other close to him on his right hand, and fumbles in her sleeve._ I'm so well plac'd I cannot miss the mark. [_Aside._ +Don Z.+ Good madam, what's the matter? for I see Disorder in you: put me out of pain. +Blan.+ That I shall quickly do: [_Aside._ Know then, Don Zancho, In the first place, you must not interrupt me, Whatever you shall hear; I'll take it ill else. When I have done, then speak your mind at leisure. I come not to argue, but conclude. +Don Z.+ Your will's a law to me; But whither tends all this? [_Aside._ +Blan.+ I do for once allow you to remember All that has pass'd between us: The folly of my love, the falsehood of yours; That done, and never to be thought on more-- +Don Z.+ For Heaven's sake, madam-- +Blan.+ Break not the rule was set: Know I instructed am in all your story, And am so far grown mistress of myself, That I, who th' other day could scarce o'ercome The sense of a slight failure at Madrid, Can here at home suffer indignities, And tell you calmly and with unconcern'dness, Be you Elvira's and Elvira yours. I come to do a part you little look'd for From Blanca's spirit: I must make the marriage. All things are ready, and her father here. Now you may speak, Don Zancho; but the thing Admits of no delay. +Don Z.+ But can this be in earnest? sure, it cannot. What needs these trials of so firm a faith? [_Pausing awhile._ +Blan.+ Leave trifling; 'tis no longer time for tricks. It is not in the pow'r of fate to alter The resolution taken. [_+Don Zancho+ pauses._ +Don. F.+ She has put it home. [_Aside._ +Don Z.+ Madam, you use me hardly; this demeanour Passes my skill, to judge from whence it springs. You say it is not in the pow'r of fate To change your resolutions; but I'm sure, If they be such, 'twill less be in its pow'r To alter mine: but yet, before I die, You must be left without excuse by knowing The truth of all. +Don F.+ Here it imports indeed to be attentive. [_Aside._ +Don Z.+ Madam, 'tis true that, absent at Madrid, The custom of the court and vanity Embark'd me lightly in a gallantry With the most fam'd of beauties there, Elvira: Those and no other the true motives were To all my first addresses, till her scorns, Which should have stopp'd them, had engag'd me more, And made a love in jest a point of honour. I bore all her disdains without transportment, Till, having gain'd her waiting-woman's kindness, I learn'd from her that all Elvira's slightings She would have thought had sprung from severe maxims And preciousness of humour, were th' effects Of deep engagement in another love With a young gallant, Don Fernando Solis, With whom the cruel dame was so far gone, As to admit him almost[23] every night Into her chamber. +Don F.+ Bless'd gods, what do I hear? [_Aside._ +Don Z.+ [_continuing_] I, scarce believing the thing possible, Urg'd my intelligencer to do for me That which her lady for another did, And to admit me to her chamber where, By being eye-witness of her lady's actions, I might transfer my entire love to herself. She granted my request, and late one night, Somewhat before the gallant's usual hour, She brought me a back-way up to[24] her chamber, Within Elvira's. My stay had not been long, When, having found the truth of what she'd told me, Converting rage into appearing kindness To my informer, and expressing it Uncautiously, we made a sudden noise, With which Elvira alarm'd, and coming in, Follow'd by Don Fernando, that fell out, Which you have heard before. [_+Don Julio+ beckoning +Don Pedro+ after him, passing over one corner of the stage._ +Don J.+ By this time, I suppose, she will have made The proposition to the full, and we Shall come at the just time to hear his answer. [_Exeunt +Don Pedro+ and +Don Julio+._ +Don Z.+ [_Continuing._] If since that hour I have ever seen Or thought upon her, till last night's surprise, May I for ever perish: and methinks The use of that to your advantage Might challenge from you a more just construction. +Blan.+ I told you at first, I came not here to argue, But to conclude. Say, will you marry her? [_+Don Julio+ and +Don Pedro+ peep out as from behind the hanging._ +Don J.+ W'are come, you see, just as we could have wish'd. [_Aside._ +Don P.+ His fate hangs on his lips. [_Aside._ +Don Z.+ You are mistress of your words and actions, madam, And may use me as you please; but this hand Shall sooner pierce this heart than e'er be given In marriage to Elvira. [_+Don Pedro+ and +Don Julio+ rush in with their swords and daggers drawn, and +Don Zancho+ draws too._ +Don P.+ Then, villain, die! Heav'n is too weak to save thee By any other means. [_+Don Fernando+ draws, and rushing out._ +Don F.+ But here is one that shall-- Or all by his side. +Don P.+ O heavens! what's this? Don Fernando Solis protecting him! Nay, then the whole world conspires against my honour. +Blan.+ For heaven's sake, gentlemen! [_+Blanca+ runs in between._ +Chi.+ Now, by my grandame's pantable,[25] 'tis pretty! [_From behind._ I'll brush their coats, if once it come to fighting. Fernando's of our side. +Francisca+, _and +Chichon+ with a long broom, run out also from behind the hanging._ +Don J.+ What frenzy's this, Fernando? was't not you Engaged me to effect the marriage? Sure, w'are all Bewitch'd. +Don F.+ Stay, my Don Julio, stay, And let Don Pedro have patience but to hear me-- 'Tis true; but you know well upon what grounds: Those are quite chang'd by my having overheard All that hath pass'd; for my Elvira, Julio, Proves spotless in her faith, as in her beauty, And I the only guilty, to have doubted. What have I then to do, but here to prostrate Myself at her offended father's feet, And beg his pardon? that obtain'd, t' implore His help to gain me hers, as to a person In whom respect for him hath always held Proportion with my passion for his daughter. +Don P.+ You know, Don Julio, when I spake with you, The terms of estimation and respect, Wherewith I mention'd t' ye this gentleman; And, therefore, since in his address t' Elvira There was no other fault, but making it Unknown to me, and that I see his thoughts Are truly noble, honour thus engaged, That ought to be forgot, and I to think Myself most happy in such a son-in-law. But where's Elvira? +Don F.+ She's there within, where I dare not appear Before her, knowing now such guilt upon me. If Blanca would employ her interest And eloquence, perhaps she might prevail To get her hither, when she shall have told her What changes a few minutes' time have wrought. +Blan.+ I never went on a more pleasing errand. [_Exit +Blanca+._ +Fran.+ I am struck dumb with wonder. [_Exit._ +Don F.+ Now Blanca is away, I'll take this time To spare her blushes, Julio, and tell you, Though I have broke one marriage for Don Zancho, You needs must give me leave to make another; To which, unless I'm very much deceiv'd, You'll find on neither part repugnancy. +Don J.+ I understand you; and I thank the gods They did not make me understand the wrong, Till they have made it none, since I observe Don Zancho's looks joining in your desires. +Don Z.+ A heart so full of love, as mine for Blanca, Does best express itself when it speaks least. _Enter +Donna Blanca+, +Donna Elvira+, and +Francisa.+ +Elvira+ casts herself at her father's feet._ +Elv.+ Now that the justice of the gods at length Hath clear'd me from suspicions derogatory To th' honour of your blood, I hope a cloister May expiate my fault as to a father. +Don P.+ Rise, child. The enclosure I condemn you to [_Raising her._ Is Don Fernando's arms: give him your hand. +Elv.+ 'Tis yours, sir, to dispose of, I confess, And if it be your will, I must submit; But let him know, who could suspect Elvira, She never could be his but by obedience. +Don F.+ I am thunderstruck. [_+Elvira+ giving him her hand._ +Elv.+ Be not dismay'd, Fernando, Since I profess this a mere act of duty; Another duty may Elvira move To reinflame on better grounds her love. +Don J.+ [_ironically._] Blanca, I fear you'll hardly be persuaded To give yours to Don Zancho; but a brother For once may play the tyrant. Give it him: It must be so. [_They join hands._ +Don F.+ I now renounce old maxims: having you, Elvira, I am sure the very best proves true. +Chi.+ Hold there, I beg you, sir: that will appear By that time you have married been a year. [_Exeunt._ FOOTNOTES: [17] Without any sufficient reason, and to the evident injury of the metre, of which the author has nowhere been very careful, he here and elsewhere preferred the Spanish word _capricho_, to the English word _caprice_.--_Collier._ [18] Dodsley and Reed very absurdly gave this line to Don Fernando, when it is evidently a reply by Don Julio to the request of his friend. The old copy did not mislead the former editors.--_Collier._ [19] _Cauls_ are little membranes, found on some children, encompassing the head, when born. The vulgar opinion has generally been, that every person possessed of one of these _cauls_, whether originally belonging to him, or obtained by purchase, would be fortunate, and escape dangers. "Lampridius tells us, that the midwives sold _cauls_ at a good price to the advocates and pleaders of his time; it being an opinion, that while they had this about them, they should carry with them a force of persuasion which no judge could withstand: the canons forbid the use of it, because some witches and sorcerers, it seems, had abused it."--See ["Popular Antiquities of Great Britain," 1870, iii., 139-42.] Sir T. Brown ("Vulgar Errors," b. v., ch. 21) quotes "the life of Antonius delivered by Spartianus" on the subject. The caul, a "sillyhow" (as Sir T. Brown terms it), is still considered a preservative against danger, and especially against drowning. Notices of the sale of them used to be daily posted on the Royal Exchange, and they are bought by captains of ships and others going to sea, and great prices given for them. The _Times_ newspaper of March 17, 1827, has the following advertisement:--"A child's caul, well worth £20, to be sold for £14. Apply at Academy," &c.--_Collier._ [20] He calls him Sir Galor in reference to the character this knight sustained in the old romances. He was sometimes known by other names.--_Collier._ [More properly, Sir _Galaor_. He was a brother of Amadis of Gaul.] [21] [Old copy, _lady whom_, which injures the metre. The latter, however, is not very regular or correct in this play.] [22] _Herself_, omitted by Dodsley and Reed.--_Collier._ [23] _Almost_ omitted by Dodsley and Reed.--_Collier._ [24] [Old copy _into_.] [25] Or _pantofle_. In "Damon and Pithias" [iv. 67,] we have seen it called _pantacle_.--_Collier._ THE MARRIAGE NIGHT. _Edition._ _The Marriage Night. Written by the Lord Viscount Fawkland._ _Scientia non habet Inimicum Præter Ignorantiam._ _London. Printed by W. G. for R. Crofts at the Crown in Chancery-Lane under Sergeants-Inne._ 1664. 4º. The "Marriage Night" was excluded from the second and third editions of Dodsley's collection. The punctuation of the old copy, and of the reprint of 1744, is very corrupt; but the text itself seems to be unusually free from errors. DODSLEY'S PREFACE. +Henry Cary+, +Viscount Falkland+, was the son of him who is commonly called the Great Lord Falkland. He was a person very eminent for his extraordinary parts and heroic spirit. When he was first elected to serve in Parliament, some of the members opposed his admission, urging that he had not sowed his wild oats. "Then it will be the best way," replied he, "to sow them in the House, where there are geese enough to pick them up." He died in 1643, being cut off in the prime of his years, as much missed when dead, says Langbaine, as beloved when living. I am informed from very good hands, that it was he who wrote the epilogue to Lord Rochester's "Valentinian." And I believe the same person wrote the copy of verses, which is prefixed to Sandys' tragedy, entitled, "Christ's Passion," translated, or rather imitated, from the Latin of Hugo Grotius. _DRAMATIS PERSONÆ._ +The King.+ +De Bereo+, _a duke, brother to the king._ +De Castro+, } +Dessandro+, } _counts, brothers._ +De Flame+, _a count._ +Pirez+, } +Sampayo+, } _two lords._ +De Loome+, } +La Gitterne+, } _attendants to the duke._ +Silliman+, _steward to the duchess._ Two Judges. +Claudilla+, _a duchess._ +Cleara+, _sister to De Flame._ +Torguina+, } +De Prate+, } _ladies to the duchess._ Attendants. _Scene, Castile._ THE MARRIAGE NIGHT. ACTUS PRIMUS, SCENA PRIMA. _Enter +Pirez+ and +Sampayo+._ +Pir.+ Is't possible? Dessandro quit from his command o' th' citadel? So sharply too? Brushing times, my lord! Pray, by virtue of what offence? +Samp.+ It may be treason to ask their wisdoms that; But the huge mountebank, the vulgar rout, Quarrel'd with's religion; 'cause 'tis not in the Smallest print: and the king----was to say nothing. +Pir.+ Good King! I could wish something; And heartily, if I durst: Well, from grave hypocrisy And beardless wisdom, good heaven deliver us! Nothing in his great father's memory to hold him Worthy of his place. +Samp.+ That makes him taste it To the extremity of sense and anger. +Pir.+ Let us but slight some gull; or his gay dress, Whose clothes and folly are his sense of honour; How will it conjure up his blood, and bend his brow? And can Dessandro want a just and valiant anger To feel the merits of so brave a father, And his own too (kept at a noble height) Rendered disgraced and sullied? He may believe H' has deserv'd better, both in himself and father: But how does his resolution take it? +Samp.+ As fire and air compress'd when (struggling) they Break forth in thunders; or the vexed wind, amongst A grove of trees, spending his scorn and rage. +Pir.+ Men of his soul and constitution cannot Play with their passions, and stroke 'em tame, When so provok'd. The duke! _Enter +Duke De Bereo+, passing over the stage, +De Castro+ whispering with him, +De Loome+, +La Gitterne+, and other Attendants._ +Duke.+ Let him be confident of me, in something More worthy of himself than the command H' has lost; and bid him use my promise. +De C.+ We are the creatures Of your favour; and but own our lives T' acknowledge it. [_Exeunt._ +Pir.+ Here's state embroidery! But pray'e, what holiday things be they that spread So in his train? I don't remember I left Such faces in the court. +Samp.+ The first of them Stalks in a knighthood, like a boy In a Dutch burgher's doublet; and 'tis as much Too wide for him; he has travell'd, and speaks languages, As a barber's boy plays o' th' gittern; and those gay clouts, sir, Came out of's father's shop. +Pir.+ His remnants. The other? That looks like the age to come, Which must be worse than this. +Samp.+ His fortune and industry Has preferr'd him to be barber and pimp; Two men's places, till of late our noblemen, Growing frugal, do find one may do Both the employments. +Pir.+ It is both thriving and genteel. +Samp.+ Genteel indeed; for they have produc'd knights, And made statesmen of broken citizens with the help Of a wife. But he, whose youth and sorrow shows him Like a fair day, set in a cloudy evening is---- +Pir.+ The Lord de Castro--I know him: and methinks Some sparks of his father, great Velasco's, character Shines in this young man through all the darkness Of his fate. +Samp.+ That name alone has glory enough To make him a brave presage to us. The duke's father's character was deriv'd, And circled in himself; and a full age Of men shall rarely show another of So much great and balanc'd man in't. +Pir.+ They are all court-fancies; pageants of state: And want allowance both of brain and soul, To make their blood and titles weight +Samp.+ He was strangely Shuffled to the block. +Pir.+ That blow did bleed Castile too weak, And left us in a faint and sickly pang. +Samp.+ The pulse, sir, of Castile beats in another temper, Than when you left it. +Pir.+ I find it: The city wears a cap, and looks As if all were not right there. +Samp.+ Except their wives. +Pir.+ The court, methinks, has strangely chang'd Complexion too. +Samp.+ Those that deride us say the clergy Has catch'd the falling-sickness: the court, a deep Consumption; and that the commons have the spleen. +Pir.+ I know not what disease the court has; but the Lords Look as if they had oversat themselves at play, And lost odds, so scurvily-- +Samp.+ How does your lordship find The ladies? +Pir.+ I ha' not been amongst 'em yet To take up my arrears: only had the court-happiness To kiss her hand, who in herself contracts them all For grace and lustre, the widow-duchess Claudilla. +Samp.+ Why, there my admiration leaves you; I grant her A brave and courtly girl; has trim and dazzle, Enough of white and red, to attract the eye, Like an indifferent copy, flourish'd with golden trails. But place your judgment nearer, it retreats, And cries you mercy for the mistake. At distance, She is a goodly landskip. +Pir.+ Alas, her blooming beauties Yet languish and pine o'er her husband's hearse, Like roses scatter'd from the morning's brow Into the day's parch'd lap. +Samp.+ Their spring will shine again; grow glorious And fruitful in the arms of her De Flame; It is my hearty wish to their affections; That count does bear an honour'd character From all that know him. +Pir.+ A brave young man; and one that is more honour To his title, than it to him. But when Must their hymeneal tapers flame, and she Offer her turtle pantings at the altar, Purpling the morn with blushes, as she goes; And scatter such bright rays, as the sun may Dress his beams with for that day's glory? +Samp.+ After He has deliver'd his sister to Dessandro's hand, He will not defer those minutes long; and he thinks himself Behind in some expression of their friendship, Until the knot meet there. +Pir.+ Cleara is a lady Of a sweet and honour'd fame. +Samp.+ All other of her sex Are dull and sullied imitations, pale glimmerings, Set by her. Whate'er the modest fictions Of sweet'ned pens has meant, she is their moral. +Pir.+ You speak like one that knows what virtue is, And can love it. _Enter +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+ to them._ +Des.+ I thank the duke; he has a right soul. But, prythee, no more of these sad consolations; They hang upon my heart like pond'rous weights At trembling wires; or like the dull labourings Of that clock, which groan'd out our dear father's Fatal minute. +De C.+ I have done. +Des.+ I could chide this tame and phlegmy vapour From my blood. Our passions melt into soft Murmurs, like hollow springs: The manhood of cold hinds would not be tempted To this sense, but leap with rage into their eyes; Brother, it would; and wake 'em into tempests. A wretched fly would show its spleen. +De C.+ This anger will but show men, where you bleed, And keep the wound still green. +Des.+ The scar will stick for ever. O, the dark hypocrisy and juggling of our times! Great men are slaves to slaves; and we are theirs: The law's a tame wolf cowards and fools May stroke with giving hands: while he shall Couchant lie, and wag the tail; but show His fangs at you and I. A noble wish Is dangerous: is't not, my lord? +Pir.+ What, Dessandro? +Des.+ The vulgar's a kennel of black-mouth'd dogs, That worry men's deserts and fame: my curse Fester in their temples! +De C.+ Prythee, Dessandro, collect these scatter'd thoughts. +Des.+ I'll hollow them through all the world, and say't Again. Worth and honour now are crimes, and giants 'Gainst the state. My lords, shall's be merry, And talk something the hangman may thank Us for? +Pir.+ Treason? I vow, Dessandro, I speak the worst _Ex tempore_ of any man living. +Samp.+ I could mutter it well enough; but I'm to marry A city widow, and buy a place at court. +Pir.+ When I have sold my land, we'll venture on A merry catch, and ever subscribe your servant, Noble Dessandro. +Des.+ I shall find a time and place to pay your lordship The accompt of my engagements. +De C.+ Brother, my attendance calls me to the king; I'll wait upon your lordship, if y'are for the court. +Pir.+ Your lordship's servant thither. [_Exeunt._ +Des.+ So streams divide, and ruffle by their banks. My brother's of a safe contracted bosom: Can strangle his labouring rages in their thought; When they do tug like poisons at my breast, Until I give them air. But I'll observe, And creep into men's souls: hug my dear anger To myself, until it gnaw my entrails through, That men may court my patience and discourse, As now they shun it. And when black night has stretch'd her gloomy limbs, And laid her head upon some mountain-top, Bound up in foggy mists, then keep my haunts By some dull-groaning stream, with screeching owls And bats; there pay my broken thoughts Unto thy ghost, Velasco!---- Echo shall wake, and midnight, to help me curse their souls That thrust thee to thy grave; whilst I will hang About night's neck, until the moon do wake To rescue her. _Enter the +Duke+._ +Duke.+ Dessandro, You must not be angry my power came short Of my desires to serve you: we'll try some other way. You see by what engines the times move; The king refers all to his council; and though They do not tie his hands, they hold 'em by a strange Courtesy. I'm but a single looker-on: perhaps They may take notice of me for his brother; That is, when they please, too; but this Came nearest to me; upon the engagement of my honour To deny my friend, and one, whose single faith Had been enough for all the kingdom's safety-- The holding of such a trifle as the citadel. +Des.+ It has recompens'd me in part to know, where That close annoy lay which wounded me i' th' dark: I shall now collect myself against it; and know, My lord, where my poor life and powers are To be prostrate. Could I enlarge them to my wish, They might appear, sir, to your highness' use. +Duke.+ I know how far you can, bravest man; Your worth has taken fire here, where I will Preserve it in a noble flame. My greatest thirst of fame is my expression To men of your merit, who cannot want A friend, whilst I have power to be one: But I am scanted and weak'ned in my desires, Else fam'd Velasco had not yet slept in his dust To please the common hangman; nor men of glorious Parts live shrouded in obscure homes, like Pamphlets out of date. +Des.+ You are the patron of our honoured actions, And all their glory meets and circles in Your fame. +Duke.+ I will disengage you from this forc'd compliment: It keeps me at too great a distance from that Bosom, where I would lodge a friend, Dessandro: I must take't unkindly too, that in the scroll Of all your friends I stand dash'd out, a stranger To your joys. +Des.+ My lord! +Duke.+ But you shall not steal the day so: I'll be One at the ceremony, though the bride tell me In a blush, I came unwish'd-for. +Des.+ 'Tis but the busy voice that, like the nightmare, Rides men, and can find strange shapes and prodigies I'th' clouds. I must confess, Cleara has the Engagement of all her virtues and a brother's on me. When it concerns me nearer, it must not be a secret To your highness, to whom all that's deriv'd To my poor life and fortune is a just debt. +Duke.+ You know the way unto a friend--if you can think I have power enough to make me so. +Des.+ Sir, I was only showed to the world to be talk'd on: Fortune (I thank her) has given me many knacks To play with in her mood, but taken 'em away again scurvily, To tell me I was not born to any real purpose; And I wish nothing she can give me. +Duke.+ She will acknowledge her mistake, and put On her smiles to court your merits. La Gitterne, is the king come from's sport? [_+La Gitterne+ waits._ +La G.+ He dines abroad, my lord. +Duke.+ Colonel, this day you shall bestow on me: I owe the Duchess Claudilla a visit; Make ready straight; we'll spend a dinner-time There, and the afternoon at tennis. [_Exeunt._ +A Song.+ _That done, +Claudilla+ and +De Flame+ discovered sitting in a rich couch; at each end a lady waiting._ +De F.+ This does but find our melancholy out, And cast it in a minute's trance; when one Soft accent from Claudilla's voice leaves nought That's earth about me. My soul's in her Elysium, And every sense immortal, dilated into joys: Heaven becomes attentive, and the soft winds Put on their perfum'd wings to hover near those lips. That blush does show the sparkles of some incensed thought! My poor expressions rob ye; but I appeal To this white hand for pardon. +Claud.+ Sir, my thoughts are all acknowledgments of that delight I hear and see you with, what dress soe'er you please To send your courtship in to try 'em; We have outliv'd those arts and common charms, And need not seek our hearts in scatter'd flames; As those, whose lesson yet is at the hand or eye; Our hearts have read Love's deep divinity And all his amorous volumes over; we must write Stories of our love, my lord. +De F.+ And chaste ones, madam: How glorious the frontispiece would show With great Claudilla's name, tried in a true Love's knot to her De Flame's! Though the Great distance of your shining attributes both Of blood and virtue, consider'd in the poverty of mine, Would draw squint eyes and envy to my stars; But speak your name great as the example of your Goodness, and make it worth the imitation Of all noble minds, that shall but read your love And sweetness, which (most excellent of your sex) Condescended unto me, who else had Languish'd in a heap of ashes. +Claud.+ My lord, you have found an easy way into My heart, and won me from myself, ere I Could call my thoughts [forth] to resistance; Such strength brought your deserts! But now I hope, nay, can be confident (best sir), they are Treasured in a breast, whose virtues will Preserve them with themselves. +De F.+ O madam! +Claud.+ It may be, some discourse that, when first I entertain'd your love, I had not yet given The world and my dead husband's earth a full Accompt of sorrow, or paid his memory A year's just rent of tears: but I appeal To my own heart; and you, my lord, can say---- +De F.+ Your heart has been but too severe unto itself; And I can say I have not seen a beam break From those eyes, but through dark clouds and showers; Or like the sun, drench'd in the swelling main; Nor a look with the least comfort of a smile in't. Nay, divinest madam, now you do but chide Heaven in your tears, and cannot raise the dead. +Claud.+ True, sir. +De F.+ Tears are but shallow murmurs of our grief. I envy not his grave a tear, but owe all Noble mention to't; yet, madam, I did hope You had discharg'd the smart and cruelty of grief From your soft breast, and would call your beauties [Back] to their natural springs. Look on yourself, rare lady, in this change: With what high flame and rapture it becomes you: So breaks the morning forth of a crystal cloud, And so the sun ascends his glittering chair, And from his burnish'd locks shakes day about. The summer puts not on more delights and various Glory, than shines in bright Claudilla; And shall the grave exhaust their pride And youth? _Enter +Torguina+._ +Tor.+ Madam, the king's brother gives you a visit. +De F.+ Who's with him? +Tor.+ The colonel your lordship calls friend. +De F.+ Dessandro? +Claud.+ Let's meet 'em, sir. [_Exeunt._ ACTUS SECUNDUS, SCENA PRIMA. _Enter the +Duke+, +Duchess+, +Cleara+, +De Flame+, +Dessandra+, Attendants._ +Duke.+ I'm in arrears yet unto your grace. +Claud.+ A widow's entertainment, sir, you please to honour. +Duke.+ I wish the hours but short, that bring the night You are to lose that name in; and then, to what Length your own desires would spin 'em, Widow! Madam, there's disconsonancy in The name, methinks. Claudilla widow! Duchess, and still widow (like a cypress Cast o'er a bed of lilies) darkens your other titles: 'Tis a weed in your garden, and will spoil the youth And beauty it grows nigh: a word of mortality Or a _memento mori_ to all young ladies, And a passing-bell to old ones. Indeed, it is A mere privation; and all widows are in The state of outlaws, till married again. +Claud.+ Your highness holds a merry opinion of us Poor widows. +De F.+ I say virgins are the ore: widows, The gold tried and refin'd. +Duke.+ A fair young lady and widow is A rich piece of stuff rumpled: an old one's A blotting-paper a man shall never Write anything on--she sinks so. Dessandro, your comment. +De F.+ Friend, you are dull o' th' sudden. +Cle.+ He is not well. +Claud.+ Not well, sir? +Des.+ Not well, madam. +Duke.+ Dull! Shall's to tennis? I have some pistolets Will pay your borrow'd time, Dessandro. +Des.+ Your pardon, sir: I am unfit to wait on you. My life hangs in a dew upon me; And I have drunk poison. +De F.+ Ha! A physician with all speed! Dessandro! +Cle.+ Dear sir! +Des.+ Cleara! Lend me thy hand: so-- I'm struck upon a rock. [_Swoons._ +Cle.+ He's dead; I shall not overtake him. +Duke.+ Look to the lady. +Claud.+ He swells like a stopp'd torrent or a teeming cloud; Have I no servants there? [_Carry him off._ +De F.+ What a sudden storm is fallen? +Duke.+ How fares the lady? +Claud.+ Madam! +Cle.+ As you are tender-natur'd, let no hand Close his eyes but mine: I am come back Thus far to take my farewell on his cold lip. [_+De Flame+ returns._ +De F.+ Sister, let thy warm blood flow back: Thy Dessandro lives, my girl! +Cle.+ O, may I not see him? +De F.+ You shall. [_Exeunt._ Duke. Give me leave to make this opportunity happy On your hand. How! Not vouchsafe it? [_+Duchess+ goes off._ What a tyranny shot from her scornful eye! Where have I lost myself and her? There's a cross and peevish genius haunts my hopes; A black and envious cloud; and I must get above it. Not kiss your hand? Is your blood surfeited? I'll quit This scorn; indeed I will, coy madam! Thou, that are lord of my proud horoscope; Great soul of mysteries, kindle my brain With thy immortal fires! That if I fall, my name may rise divine: So Cæsar's glory set, and so set mine! [_Exit._ _Enter +Silliman+, a bottle tied in a riband to his pocket._ +Sil.+ Brave canary, intelligent canary, That does refresh our weak and mortal bodies! I will have thee canonis'd Saint Canary at My own charge, and call my eldest son Canary. Yet for a man to love thee at His own cost is damnable, very damnable; And I defy it. And Siss is the blithest lass in our town, For she sells ale by the pound and the dozen; Ale! Hang ale! _Enter a +Messenger+._ +Mes.+ By your worship's leave, I would speak with Signior Silliman, the Duchess's steward, an't like ye. +Sil.+ Wou'd you speak with Signior Silliman, an't like ye? +Mes.+ Please God and your worship, an't like ye. +Sil.+ In what language wou'd you speak with him, hum? +Mes.+ Yes, verily, I would speak with him, an't like ye. +Sil.+ At what posture? +Mes.+ Marry, from a friend, an't like ye. +Sil.+ Very good, my friend. Didst ever say thy [_Drinks._ Prayers in the canary tongue? +Mes.+ My prayers, an't like ye? Your worship's dispos'd To be merry: I have a wife and seven small Children, an't like ye, to wind and turn as they say, Simple as your worship sees me here, an't like ye. +Sil.+ Pox o' wives; I'll not give a gazet for thy wife; She's tough, and too much powder'd. Fetch me Thy daughter, thy youngest daughter, sirrah! If the creature be a virgin, and desirable: Look ye! there's money to buy her clean linen. I'll have a bath of rich canary and Venus' milk; Where we will bathe and swim together, like So many swans, and then be call'd Signior Jupiter Sillimano. But is she man's meat? I have a tender appetite, and can scarcely digest One in her teens. +Mes.+ Does your worship think I wou'd be a Judas, an't like ye? She's as neat a girl, and as tight at her business As the back of your hand, an't like ye; but heaven Bless ye, and cry ye mercy, if you be his worship, Here's a letter from the Lady de Prate, an't like ye. +Sil.+ The Lady de Prate (mark me, sirrah) is a Noble lady; we say so---- [_Reads a letter._ _I never knew what bondage was till now; I fear the gilded heart you sent me was Enchanted_--(O, O)--_I long to see you_-- (Hum--hum)--_therefore let me have the happiness To know the place and time_--(even so)--_as You love her, that blushes to write this_---- Yes, yes, I'll enchant ye! I'll time and place ye! Surely, there's something more about me, than I can Perceive. Grant that I may bear my fate Discreetly! _I never knew what bondage was_ [_Reads. Till now_. Well; 'tis heaven's goodness! For what am I, Silly wretch, to such a lady, as she that writes so Pitifully unto me? It wou'd overcome e'en a heart Of flint: Good gentlewoman! [_Weeps. As you love her, that blushes to write this_-- [_Reads._ Hum--yes, yes; she knows I love her: it Will work--I can't contain my good-nature. [_Drinks and weeps._ _Enter +La Gitterne+ and +De Loome+._ +De L.+ Here he is; and stands like a map of Sundry countries. [_Aside._ +La G.+ One wou'd take him for some foreign beast, And that fellow to show him. How the gander Ruffles and prunes himself, as if he would Tread the goose by him! +De L.+ 'Tis a pure goat! +La G.+ And will clamber a pyramid in scent of's female. +De L.+ The wenches swear, he kisses like a giant still; And will ride his heats as cleanly as a dieted Gelding. Let's fall in. Signior Silliman! My best wishes kiss your hand. +La G.+ Continue me worthy of the title of your servant, sir. +Sil.+ I am very glad to see you well; and hope you are In good health and sound, gentlemen. +La G.+ And when shall's draw cuts again for a Wench, signior, ha? +Sil.+ Your pleasure [is] to say so. +De L.+ The slave's rose-drunk, o' my life. +Sil.+ Please you to take notice of my worthy friend here. +De L.+ Your admirer, sir. [_Salutes +Messenger+._ +La G.+ Slave to your sedan, sir. +Mes.+ God bless the good duchess, and all that love the King, I say, gentlemen, an't like ye. +De L.+ Pray, sir, what news abroad, or at court? +Mes.+ News, quotha! Indeed, sir, the truth is I am a Shoemaker by my trade; my name is Latchet, And I work to some ladies in the house here, Though I say't myself; and yet the times were Never harder, nor leather dearer. +De L.+ This winter will make amends; You shall have horsehides cheap, horsehides dog-cheap. +Latch.+ Cheap, quotha! Why, sir, I'll tell you, (for you Look like a very honest gentleman), I am put to Find a pike myself; and must, the parish swears, Or lose all the shoes in my shop. +De L.+ 'Tis very brave! Why, you look like a champion; And have a face the parish may confide in. +Latch.+ Fide, quotha! sir; be judge yourself, if ever You knew the like. I have been at the trade This forty years, off and on; and those children's Shoes, I have sold for sixpence or a groat upon some Occasion, we now sell for twelvepence, as they say. +De L.+ Then the misery is, you get the more. +Latch.+ More, quotha! Pray, sir, a word. You are a Courtier, if I may be so bold. They say we must All be fain to shut up shop, and mortgage Our wives to the soldiers. D'ye hear any Such talk, sir? +De L.+ Some buzzing: but the blades will not accept 'em Without special articles and a flock of money and Plate, to keep the babies they shall beget valiant. +Latch.+ Valiant, quoth-a! Truly, sir, I'll tell ye, On the truth of a poor man, my Lady de Prate's foot Is but of the sixes: and yet we pay five pistoles A dicker. +Sil.+ My lady's foot but o' the sixes? you lie, sirrah! By Saint Hugh! there's never a lady i' th' land has a Prettier foot and leg; if you ha' not spoil'd 'em With your calf's-skin, sirrah. +La G.+ Why, the sixes is a good handsome size for a lady. +Latch.+ Lady, quotha! my life for her's, there's few ladies I' the court go more upright, nor pay better: I'll say that. +Sil.+ You say that? foh! I scorn to wear an inch Of leather thy nasty flesh shall handle. +De L.+ O, your worthy friend, signior; and an elder in's parish; A pikeman too for the republic. Come, come, He shall be shoemaker to us all. Canst trust? +Latch.+ Trust, quotha! My name's Latchet, sir. I Serv'd eleven years to my vocation, before I Could be free, and have drunk many a good bowl Of beer i' th' duchess's cellar since that. +De L.+ I like a man can answer so punctually To a thing. +Latch.+ Thing, quotha! it is our trade, sir. +De L.+ Spoke like the warden of the company! [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Claudilla+, and +Dessandro+ in a nightgown._ +Claud.+ I am at extremity of wonder. +Des.+ The story may deserve it, lady; when you shall Cast your thoughts upon the man it treats on; The circumstances and progress of my love: Nay, it may raise your anger higher than your wonder; And work the modest pantings of your breast Into a hectic rage. I saw this tempest Gather'd in a cloud, dismal and black, ready to break Its womb in storms upon me; and I have cast My soul on every frown and horror you can arm Your passion with. I have held conflict with the wilder Guilt and tremblings of my blood to rescue it; but Heaven and my angry fate has thrown me grovelling At your feet; and I want soul to break the charm. +Claud.+ This is a strange mystery, to betray my virtue With your own; and I shall sin to hear it. +Des.+ If pity be a sin, lock up those beauties From the view of men; or they will damn all the Eyes that look upon you. +Claud.+ Has your blood lost all the virtue it should inherit? And think you by this treacherous siege to take My honour in? Let me shun you, or you will Talk me leprous. +Des.+ Do, madam. Tear up the wounds your eyes have made---- I'll keep them bleeding sacrifices to your cruelty. And when cold Death has cast his gloomy shade O'er this dust, perhaps you may bestow one gentle Sigh to hallow it: when you shall know The height of my desires was but to die worthy Of your pardon, without the ambition of a bolder thought: And still had scorch'd and smother'd here without A tongue, only to beg your mercy to my grave. +Claud.+ Play not yourself into a shame will rūst your brightest Worths, and hide your dust in curses and black fame: I now shall think your valour flatter'd, that can Sink it to such effeminate and lovesick crafts, For our stale women to mollify the usher with. Dessandro has a fame, high and active as the voice It flies on; and could you wander from your Religious self in such a dream as this? Cleara's virtue has an interest near your heart, Should wake you to your first man again. +Des.+ Cleara still is here in the first sculpture of Her virtues; and I their honourer. +Claud.+ No more!---- My grief and shame are passionate, to find So much bad man got near your heart; and shows This sick complexion in your honour, more Tainted than the face of your imposture.---- You have play'd the excellent counterfeit, and your skill Does make you proud: you cannot blush-- [_Exit._ +Des.+ She's gone;-- A star shot from her eye, and light'ned through My blood. I must provide for thunder and Thy revenge, De Flame, as horrid as thought can Shape it. _Enter +Cleara+._ +Cle.+ Sir! +Des.+ Proud love, I'll meet thee with burning sighs And bleeding turtles at thy shrine. [_Aside._ +Cle.+ This is too bold a hazard for your health, Which yet sits wan and troubled on your cheek. +Des.+ Madam! +Cle.+ Indeed, I'll chide ye. [_Aside._ +Des.+ O, cry ye mercy! Some retired meditations. +Cle.+ I shall observe 'em; Let me but leave you with the joy to know I stand not in the hazard of that frown. +Des.+ We'll kiss next time. +Cle.+ Sir! +Des.+ Or never. +Cle.+ Ha! d'ye know me? +Des.+ So well, methinks we should not part so soon: Our hearts have been more ceremonious, and hung In panting sighs upon our lips, to bid adieu. One kiss must now sum up all; and seal their General release. I know Cleara more constant To her virtue and brave mind, than to ask heaven Idle questions. 'Tis fate, not will. [_Exit._ +Cle.+ So. I feel thy marble hand lie here: 'Tis cold, and heavy! How my poor heart throbs under it, and struggles to Find air! not one kind sigh lend thee a gale For yonder haven! It's gone! quite vanish'd! Beshrew me, it was a most horrible apparition! I wou'd not see it again In such a cruel look for all my hopes; Yet it held me gently by the hand, and left a warm farewell there, As my Dessandro us'd. As my Dessandro, said I? O, how fain my hopes would mock my apprehension; And that my sorrow!---- I'll woo thy pity with my groans, kind earth! And lay my throbbing breast to thine! Until I am dissolv'd into a spring, Whose murmurs shall eternally repeat This minute's story. _Enter +De Flame+._ +De F.+ Ha! Cleara, drown'd in her own tears? Sister! Cleara! +Cle.+ I had a gentle slumber; and all the world (Methought) was in a midnight calm. +De F.+ Dear girl, Clear up those sad eyes and my cold doubts. Prythee, tell me, is our Dessandro dead? +Cle.+ Heaven defend! +De F.+ No! what then, in all the volumes of black destiny And nature, can throw you into this posture? Unkind Cleara, why dost dissemble it? I see him Breathless on thy cheek, and lost. +Cle.+ Lost for ever. +De F.+ My fears did prompt me so. For ever! There's horror and amazement in the thought. See, Cleara, my eyes can overtake thee. Gone at so short a farewell, friend? Death, Thou art the murderer of all our joys and hopes. +Cle.+ Sir, Dessandro's well, very well; we parted Even but now. +De F.+ What! +Cle.+ O brother, I have lost a jewel that he gave me; I shall vex my eyes out. +De F.+ Beshrew this serious folly; you have vex'd my Blood into a sullen fit. +Cle.+ You shall not chide me; Tell me, didst ever in thy life meet with a grief That made thy poor heart sick, and did divide Thy sleeps and hours into groans and sighs? +De F.+ Never, [I] thank my indifferent fate. +Cle.+ Nor in the legend of some injur'd maid, That made thine eye to pause, and with a tear Bedew it? +De F.+ I cannot untie riddled knots, Cleara. +Cle.+ Come, I'll but dry mine eyes, and tell you a story, That shall deserve a groan. [_Exeunt._ ACTUS TERTIUS. SCENA PRIMA. _Enter +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+._ +Des.+ Tush! they had only tongue And malice; and that great zeal they Seem'd to owe to Rome was unto themselves And their own estates. What were they but wranglers In schools and law? and studied words to make men Guilty. They liv'd at ease; and slept in purples and Warm furs; but bold-minded Catiline threat'ned Their wise sleeps. +De C.+ There was too much attempt and fact in't. +Des.+ 'Twas fact then to look sour on a gownman: They were mere citizens, jealous of their wives And daughters--that condemn'd 'em too! De Castro, there's a lethargy in our blood: We sleep and dream away our lives. If such Wore purple for well-talking, what shall he merit, That cures the wounds and smart his country groans with? +De C.+ The people shall enshrine his name with reverence; And fill their temples with his statues. 'Tis The great end we are all born to. +Des.+ Which can't be, whilst by-respect shall closely Wound the bosom of our laws and freedom: For what was't less, that took our father's life? +De C.+ In whose blow the heads of all brave men were Threat'ned. +Des.+ Then, if we dare not do a general good, Yet let us secure our own dear lives and honours. +De C.+ The State is full of dangerous whispers. +Des.+ There's an imposthume swells it. +De C.+ Wou'd 'twere lanc'd! +Des.+ Spoken with the soul of Cassius! We have the cure, And may do it with a little stir. But then We must deal like true physicians of state; And where we find it ulcer'd (though in ourselves, Friends and allies), not lay soft effeminate hands on't. Nature has made us nearest to ourselves: And I would pay the last warm drop of blood From all these veins, to see the hopes and honours of our blood (That's now benighted in our father's fate) Dawn on De Castro's youth again. +De C.+ No, Dessandro; these hopes are lost upon a high And angry sea; and I must see fools and stale Parasites (whose progeny ne'er bled one drop, nor had A valiant thought to serve their country) begin A spurious issue on my birthright, that will on tiptoes, Collossus-like, bestride us, and grasp our fate. +Des.+ Take me into thy bosom, brave man; we meet Like amorous streams, and as we ought; Our honour, life and fortunes have but one heart. Give me thy hand, De Castro. This sword [_Draws._ Our father hath oft made glorious in the blood Of De Castro's foes; and I'll not doubt, How much it prompts thy valiant soul. O brother, tears, and some sad discourse, Is all that we have paid him yet. Strangers Can be far braver in their sense unto his fame. The tears we ought to shed ought to be blood, De Castro! Blood, warm from their veins, that made us weep In streams, and mingle it with the dust of vulgar Feet, as they did his. Swear by all the glorious acts Of our great ancestry, their hallowed urns, Our father's injur'd memory, and all The hopes and honour we derive from them, To pay his blood a sad account in some Revenge, worthy his ghost and our bold hands. +De C.+ All which religiously I vow to. +Des.+ And I. So now we are brothers by as strong Divinity as nature. I'll not break open the Design, till we shall hear't confirm'd by higher warrant: Anon meet at the Duchess-Dowager's. +De C.+ Claudilla's? +Des.+ Yes; where you shall hear something worthy the Encouragement of our father's spirit in thee. I am now to wait upon the duke: he That keeps us what we are. +De C.+ The duke!----I have the game in view, And now discern what I must pay him for my place. +Des.+ You are full of thoughts, my lord! +De C.+ Brother, our lives are on the cast; but 'tis not that Does interpose 'em. There's something in my fears Still presents Cleara. Take heed, Dessandro; A virgin's tears leave sad and fatal prints. +Des.+ Your wishes are a brother's; but those dreams Chill not my sleeps. Think on that concerns us Near, and be active. +De C.+ I shall not fail ye. Farewell! [_Exit +De Castro+._ _Enter +Pirez+._ +Pir.+ Colonel Dessandro! +Des.+ Your lordship's pardon: Which way walk you? +Pir.+ As you please to dispose me; my business Now designs it so: 'Tis there, in short. [_Gives a paper, which +Dessandro+ reads._ I love this gallant mastery of a man's self: I look'd his temper would have flam'd about my ears. Not a sparkle in his brow, nor the least change of blood. Strange! I have seen him ruffl'd into a storm, And all fury: now, not a frown nor smile! +Des.+ De Flame? Well, My lord, this is a down-flat challenge. +Pir.+ I brought it for one. +Des.+ I accept it, with thanks to your lordship, and shall be Ready to serve you in any power I have. +Pir.+ 'Tis not worth it, colonel. +Des.+ The Lord de Flame's angry, it seems, that Fortune should Give me right without his hand in't; he has turn'd his style High and strangely on me: But I shall coolly respite That, till we have room to argue it. That he is Far more worthy his expectations in the duchess, I can Confess: that's no assent, sir, to my quarrel, nor yet A law to her. For those, whom her thoughts please To think most worthy, are so to her. +Pir.+ But does not bind the opinion of another. +Des.+ Nor that opinion her freedom. +Pir.+ Yet there be rules in virtue, from which all noble Judgments should take their level, even in love itself. +Des.+ If it be thought she's too partial in her grace To me, I shall dispute it, as 'tis question'd. +Pir.+ I come not to add exceptions, or to make any. +Des.+ I stand not in so cheap a rank, but that her Favour may make my services as meritorious As his lordship's, and can engage as much blood and Fame for't. +Pir.+ You know him of a noble breast, and one That will not flatter weak pretences into truths; Nor let 'em work with such impressions on his soul, Did not his honour bleed in't. Sir, I come, As one that ever honour'd your great parts, And wish that you could think on't o'er again. Think how black you must expect that morn to rise Upon your wishes, when you lead her to the altar; Where the faint lights with blue and ghastly flames Will receive ye; and all the things of holy ceremony Present pale glimmerings to your eyes, to fright your bride Back unto her first vows. And then, methinks, Each tear and groan the fair Cleara sends To overtake ye, should show a speaking fury To untwine your trembling hands. +Des.+ No; nor all the squadrons hell can spare To aid them--though her brother led them on, And you brought up the rear! +Pir.+ Sir! +Des.+ Pish! the meanest thought Claudilla Pleases to bestow here (under this humble guard) Must be without the affright (my lord) of all the Dangers in his muster, stare they like giants On me, and in armies. As for Cleara, If she held flattering glasses to her thoughts Which render'd 'em wide and airy, they must not forfeit Me. You may deserve her better. I'll not start, sir, A scruple from his demands and yours. Expect it, And so farewell. [_Going off._ +Pir.+ Farewell.----The time? +Des.+ I shall think on't. +Pir.+ Shall? It must not so tamely be thought on. +Des.+ How? +Pir.+ I spoke it, sir. +Des.+ Are you sent to own the quarrel? +Pir.+ No; but look on't with so much soul, as I think't An honour to wear a sword in't. +Des.+ Go, go hang it in your mistress's chamber! It stinks, sir, of perfume. +Pir.+ It may, sir (for destiny has many ways to the wood[26]), Cut your throat; and then I'll give't your footboy. +Des.+ My throat, Pirez! that saucy thought has Ruin'd thee. [_Fight._ _Enter +Sampayo+ and +De Loome+._ +Samp.+ Hold, hold, colonel. +De L.+ My lord, y'are hurt. [_To +Pirez+._ +Pir.+ I must owe him this for't. +Des.+ Canst talk yet? +Samp.+ Command your passion; see how the common herd Come gazing in. Do not become their talk And wonder. Noble Dessandro! put up, my lord! Thank ye. [_They part._ +De L.+ Sir, my lord duke sent me to tell you He expects your company. +Des.+ I wait on him. [_To +Pirez+._] Bid the ladies tear Their clean smocks to wrap you in. +Pir.+ Insolent man! [_Offers to fight._ +Samp.+ Again! [_Exeunt._ _Enter three +Townsmen+, as the Watch._ +1st T.+ Was not I about to tell you so? They would be afraid of true men, when we came. +2d T.+ By'r lady; but that mun not serve their turns; for we must know flatly which was plantan and which defendam,[27] or we shall discharge but a sorry conscience to the king's justice. +1st T.+ I'll take my oath upon the corporal Bible, I saw two glittering swords run a tilt, and two to that, if need be. +2d T.+ Neighbours, I cannot tell; we are old men, or should be at least; some of us have lived threescore years and upwards in a parish, as they say; I name nobody; and therefore it is good to be sure, and make all our tales _bonum fidrum_: for we are not all one man's children. And yet, if I be not mistaken, I am sure I saw three more, and glittering ones indeed, as you call them. God bless every good man and woman from the like! They e'en yearned my heart; and yet, by my fay, I am a hundred and two, come the time. +3d T.+ You talk like sucking infants. Neighbours, I'll be sworn, if I were to take my oath before the best man living, high or low, there was twenty drawn swords, little and great. I'm sure, I might ha' seen 'em, like a fool, had I been worth my head, but my little boy Jack did. +1st T.+ La, there; and that same's a murrain wise boy, if you mark him, and will see a thing, I warrant you, as soon as the wisest of us all, were he twice as old again. +3d T.+ I could ha' seen too at his bigness, for all I'm lame now, God help us! You remember the Powder Plot? +2d T.+ Powder Plot, quotha! I shall not forget it, while the world stands. +1st T.+ Nor I, were I to die a thousand deaths. +3d T.+ That very day was I working in our garret. +2d T.+ Say you so? +1st T.+ Nay, neighbours, beshrew me, this may be true; for I have known this man here able to do as tight a day's work by noon, as the tallest fellow the king keeps (God bless him!) take him from top to toe. +3d T.+ All's one for that. Mark me! there has not been a glass window there time out of mind: since I came nor after; and I tell you truly (I'm a false liar else) I smelt the powder as hot as if it had been done the next day. +1st T.+ See, see, the wind! the wind, neighbours, is much; God bless us! +3d T.+ Go to; I am no made fool, though a born fool, my masters. True, the wind may be something, as you say. But if there had not been something else, I would not give a fart for't. I did not work at court with a master-carpenter for nothing, my boys; and see the king's grace fasting and full, as I did, to a hairsbreadth, as they say. Let me alone for casting my cards, give me but ground enough; and yet I can neither write nor read, heaven make me thankful! +2d T.+ Heaven make us all thankful! I have seen the king too in my prime, and gave him a beck upon his milk-white steed; as near as one should say, what's this? and all his royal lords and ladies sporting. +1st T.+ Ay, ay, those were the days (peace be with 'em!) a poor man's tale might be heard at court. There are some lords and ladies now were lousy then. +3d T.+ Go thy ways, by the rood! Nay, he'll have his old talk, for all the world, up and down. +1st T.+ It was ever my condition; I care not who knows it; and yet I never scathed the least sucking child that begs his bread; but little does another man know where the king's shoe wrings him, but those that wear it, as my mother would often say; and she lived long enough to know it. +3d T.+ Nay, that's certain; the king's but a man, as we three are; no more is the queen, if you go to that. Did you never hear of my uncle's observations? He's but a poor knave (as they call him), but such a knave as cares neither for king nor kæsar, the least on 'em. +1st T.+ Then he may be hanged, neighbour Palmer. +3d T.+ If he be, he's not the first that has been hanged for treason, I hope. [_Exeunt._ _Enter the +Duke+ and +Claudilla+._ +Duke.+ That frown was shot with pretty tyranny From your brow; but this kiss shall sacrifice Me to my Claudilla's bosom. +Claud.+ You'll sully your honour in't; widows are but rumpled stuff. +Duke.+ That again! By all my hopes and by thyself, the next and greatest-- +Claud.+ Your brother's crown's betwixt us. +Duke.+ I did [that] but to sharp De Flame into some Expression of his wit and love. +Claud.+ Alas! he sighs all. +Duke.+ And, like some crude chaplain, spits most Of his mind. +Claud.+ Yet the tame dove can tire me sometimes With penn'd speeches, when we're alone, and flatter. I'm resolv'd to bestow him on my woman. +Duke.+ Now he can come to hand. Ha, ha, thinking men never love heartily, unless they be dank powder. +Claud.+ His courtship is like thick embroidery upon Slight stuff. I must confess, I never Lov'd the man, only as a rich gown out of Fashion, for a day's change sometimes at home, When I take physic. +Duke.+ You may wear him as you please, and to what Purpose; his honest nature was meant you so; But Dessandro is the man of men (I must confess), That I could wish most near you now. +Claud.+ Dessandro! +Duke.+ And suddenly, before your honour blush too palpably: I have discovered him and his devotions. +Claud.+ Then your brains were in his plot. +Duke.+ 'Twas his own. +Claud.+ Stol'n from some romance or play! but For De Flame---- +Duke.+ One wheel will move another to the period. +Claud.+ Methinks, his soft and easy spirit should be The fitter engine, and more pliant to your aim. +Duke.+ He has too much of Venus in his mixture; all his Desires would be at home still in the circle of those Eyes: the other is all fire, and thinks that fame Too cheap, that's found so near; and there will Want such men abroad. +Claud.+ But where's my honour, duke? +Duke.+ Lock'd in my heart and cares: the king must die, Claudilla, to smoothe the way, and lift us to our wishes. +Claud.+ That still is talk'd on. +Duke.+ His last glass is now turn'd, and runs apace. He gives thee to Dessandro, and is your guest; and That night receives eternal thanks for't. Then (My fair) Dessandro cannot want lustre and honour for Your bed, nor thy commands, what all Castile can give. +Claud.+ I understand not, sir. +Duke.+ Thou shalt in time. O my Claudilla! my best and nearest Joy, our loves have been entire as a flame: one centre To our thoughts and wishes; and crown our bosoms with Delight and safety. But they are come. _Enter +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+._ +Claud.+ I have not known so little of his fame To be a stranger to his worth. Sir, I honour it: Nor am I so proud and dark in my opinion, To think I stand upon myself, but stoop in Honour to one of his deserts and blood. This is The way, my lord, I ever summ'd up man, and set His titles down but for cyphers. +De C.+ Observe. [_Aside._ +Duke.+ Which will most clearly show his merits, and heighten Them in value to you; for, madam, look on him In the spring of his deserts; and you'll say, titles Are but narrow spheres; and if honoured actions Be the soul and breath, he's then above them, And stands in the first rank of men. +Des.+ I shall want life to pay this debt. [_Aside._ +Claud.+ But, with your grace's favour, I must be tender here: For I stand a tall mark to voice and censure; And need not tell your highness, with what strong Expectation the Count de Flame hath long Time visited me. +Duke.+ If you will stand engaged, madam, I am silent. +Claud.+ No, sir--but---- +Duke.+ You expect honour and fortune to your bed: I know Castile owns not a subject (I'll not Except myself; and had I another's freedom, I should Not speak my wishes in a second person) that Looks not with ambition on you: but, madam, weigh Them all; take but off their grains of fortune, He shall hoist them into the air; and to my Wish he's come. Dessandro, your name was Mentioned--happily, I hope. Let me present His value to your grace's hand; and to a sister, Madam, I would say, her bosom. +De C.+ You purchase our poor lives too highly, sir. +Duke.+ I would have rich jewels set to their worth; And shall be proud to give any advantage unto his. The Duchess shall not slight me in't: I will be Heard against the proudest courtship that shall Charm her. Come, my lord, what sport will you Win some ducats at? +De C.+ I will lose some at any your grace pleases. +Duke.+ My brother has got a fortunate hand of late 'Gainst all the court: I cannot rise at even terms From him. +De C.+ I saw him draw deep from your grace last night. +Duke.+ Two thousand ducats; but I expect 'em with interest again. +Des.+ I cannot pawn myself to the unworthy ends Of flattery and compliment; but this honour Outbids the value of a thousand lives: What this poor glimpse of expression can show me in; Saints are not more unfeigned in their prayers, Than I to serve you. +Claud.+ I shall not doubt, how much I may be indebted To your noble wishes; but let me add, sir, he that Lays out for me without my warrant, shall scarcely Put it on my account for thanks--much less, debt. +Des.+ Not good devotions! +Claud.+ Them I desire, and shall repay. +Des.+ Then pay back mine. +Claud.+ I'm not to learn my prayers, sir. +Des.+ Teach me yours, that I may turn the virtue Of their charms back to your bosom. +Claud.+ Colonel, mine would hardly please you; I never pray for wars. +Duke.+ You have back-friends, my lord? +De C.+ That some malignant cloud does interpose The king's cheerful favour, I am most sensible. +Duke.+ It wou'd spread to me too, if they durst. +De C.+ Had they but so much virtue left, they durst Own their names by, I should make pale envy blush. +Duke.+ Come, we'll to cards, and leave them to parl. [_Exeunt._ +Des.+ Madam, but mean it in a smile. +Claud.+ What! +Des.+ Love. +Claud.+ Fie! +Des.+ Yet stay; the air has busy wings. But give The thought consent, and I will take it in soft Whispers from your lip. +Claud.+ You will? +Des.+ I feel it creep in flames through all my blood! _Enter +De Flame+._ +Claud.+ Sir, the Count de Flame! +Des.+ With a black evening in his face! +De F.+ O my faithful Achilles, I came To give you joy! +Claud.+ Who! me, sir? +De F.+ My virtuous friend and you. +Claud.+ Of what? +De F.+ Of your entertainment under him. Y' have a brave commander, And he a--I cannot be angry enough to tell you what. +Claud.+ I begin to doubt his wits; he looks so ghastly. +De F.+ Yes, I see a devil in those eyes, that makes my hair Stare upward. False woman, my love durst scarce Doubt before, what now I find and tremble at. But heaven has wrath in ambush and scorpion-stings! +Claud.+ For what, my lord? +De F.+ Duchess, thy perjury and warm engagements To this, this huge impostor! +Claud.+ Sir, he has crack'd his brains with poetry; Pray, forgive him---- +Des.+ Count, you know what privilege this roof can give You on my anger, or else I should make your frenzy Tongueless. Don't requite it barbarously on her, That gives you leave to live by it. Gather your Scatter'd wits up; go home, sir, and repent. +De F.+ Privilege! I'll meet thee in a ring of flames, or on the tempest Of some billow, upon whose back the raging north wind strides: Yet I'd not ha' thee lose one spark of thy full man in noise And air; that when next we greet, I may find thee worthy My revenge. This frailty now protects thee. +Claud.+ Uncivil man, know the way back, or I shall Let that justice loose upon you you deserve. +De F.+ Your centaur there, you mean; he must Stare bigger to move a hair of mine. +Claud.+ You sha' not stir, sir; as you love me, do not: Let him die mad. +De F.+ Do kiss him, and clap his cheek. +Claud.+ And circle him in my arms from your pale envy. Does that make you foam? Look ye-- [_Kisses +Dessandro+._ +De F.+ He shall not blossom there. +Claud.+ He shall, though thou dost bribe the Furies With thy soul. +Des.+ Madam, your commands will hold me, till I scorch away! I am in flames and torment, and there's not so much Mercy under heaven, but your own, would let him use That tongue a minute longer. Thou has seen this Sword reeking from hilt to point, and sweating Showers of blood o'er thy head; whilst I bestrid thy Life, and rescu'd it 'gainst many gallant foes: And durst thou tempt it to thine own throat now? Prythee, begone; and let us meet no more. There's something in thy youth I still can love, And will forget to call thee to account for this. Be wise unto thyself, and ask this lady pardon. +De F.+ O my blood! Must I bear this! I am More cold than marble, sure! +Claud.+ Within there! Where's his grace? _Enter +Servant+._ +Serv.+ At cards, madam. +De F.+ O, cry you mercy! your bak'd meats sha' not cool for me; I only wish that they may choke ye. That paper, sir, I sent, wou'd be worth your noble answer. +Des.+ 'Tis there again, and has stopp'd the use I took it for. +De F.+ Ha! I'll make thy name a boy's play, And kill thee on the threshold of thy door. +Des.+ Go, go, take your rest! When you are Recovered, I may own you. +De F.+ Thou hast not blood enough to answer this. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Pirez+ and +Sampayo+._ +Samp.+ You tell me strange ones. +Pir.+ But true ones. +Samp.+ Nice windings! +Pir.+ This duke can strangely back his purposes, Where they like him. 'Tis a fair lift To Dessandro's fortune; his stars shin'd. +Samp.+ True; she has a spacious fortune; but I shall Tell your lordship what perhaps you know not. +Pir.+ You may. +Samp.+ She has no blood. From her first, an honest Tradesman's wife, who left her very rich and Handsome, the duke (as he still keeps a Kennel for that purpose) had her presented To him for his game; remov'd her from the Cuckoo's nest into another sphere; but with all Caution and private sleight; and you must Imagine, now she spreads a larger wing; Stirs not abroad, but studded like the night With flames; and at length becomes the court's Discourse and wonder; but still keeps[28] the Country her retiring place. +Pir.+ Unknown! +Samp.+ Or unsuspected, as the duke's instruments dealt it; And the young Henrique being in those parts With our king's brother for sport, casually (as 'twas plotted) Visits her house, falls in love, and marries her. This Is the epitome. +Pir.+ I hope the Duke Bereo had no dull hand in't. +Samp.+ 'Tis thought (only by me, sir,) [he] keeps his Acquaintance to this day. + Pir.+ It must be fatally answer'd somewhere; Heaven has a justice. +Samp.+ The preparation makes huge noise. +Pir.+ 'Tis well the king's a guest; their triumph Might miscarry else. +Samp.+ The king gives her in church. Methinks The Count de Flame must needs be all a-flame at it: And I believe, sir, your affront bleeds freshly in him. +Pir.+ It must be put to an account somewhere. +Samp.+ To return his challenge and honour with such a scorn Must work such a spirit to high extremes. +Pir.+ The saddest story is his sister. +Samp.+ A rose new-blown, and flung aside to wither in Her sweets! Poor innocence! that has much chang'd My opinion of Dessandro. +Pir.+ His resolution and ambition are like vast trees, Whose spreading tops hide their own roots From the kind sun. +Samp.+ Let out unto so vast a pride, as shades all his natural Virtues, or makes 'em grow up rank and sour. The event will tell us all. +Pir.+ I wish it without blood. Your lordship's for the solemnity? +Samp.+ My attendance ties me to his majesty's person. +Pir.+ My best wishes to your lordship. [_Exeunt._ FOOTNOTES: [26] [The common saying is, "There are more ways to the wood than one."] [27] [Plaintiff and defendant.] [28] [Old copy, _kept_.] ACTUS QUARTUS, SCENA PRIMA. _Loud Music._ _Enter the +King+, +Cardinal+, +Duke+, +Duchess+, +Dessandro+, +De Castro+, +Sampayo+, ladies bearing up her train, voices, lutes: they pass over._ _Manent +De Loome+ and +La Gitterne+._ +De L.+ So by this time the confines ring Of our great solemnity. +La G.+ She became his hand bravely, and with so skilful a brow, As if the first fruits of her honour were to be gathered yet. +De L.+ Our duke will lick his lips at this night's sport. +La G.+ And wind her up for him, 'twill go hard else. +De L.+ That shall not hinder our sport, I hope. +La G.+ Expect the steward and his bottles; I'll warrant you. +De L.+ The ladies too! we shall not tickle heartily else. +La G.+ Where are the great ones bedded? +De L.+ I' th' old place. +La G.+ I' th' corner lobby? _Enter +De Flame+ and +Cleara+ disguised._ +De F.+ You belong to the Duke de Bereo, sir? +De L.+ Who told you so? +De F.+ A friend that wou'd commend me with a poor suit Unto you, sir, if you be Signior de Loome. +De L.+ But this is no year for suit, sir. +De F.+ Mine brings thanks ready-told, sir; look ye: All double pistoles, signior. +De L.+ Sir, I shall try my power, and be ready in any Service t' ye, for my friend's sake. +De F.+ D' ye know who 'tis? +De L.+ Hum! no matter; I'll undertake your business. +De F.+ Sir, can you please to pardon some light gold? +De L.+ You shall find me a gentleman in anything for my friend's sake. +De F.+ Nay, sir, it weighs a hundred pound at all, peradventures. +De L.+ And I'll tell you one thing of myself, sir, more than Perhaps my friend rememb'red: I am very honest, where I take; and every man is not to be trusted in matters Of such consequence. A very fair purse, I assure you! +De F.+ Nest and birds are all your own. +De L.+ Your business is done, believ't, sir; please you to kiss The king's hand into the bargain? +De F.+ At fitter opportunity, let me be ambitious of your Offer: but I shall woo your courtesy to be only a Looker on now. +De L.+ Anything, sir, you can make worthy your request. Nay--I hope, you do not wish me [to] forfeit good manners--as I'm virtuous. [_Compliment for the door._ +De F.+ I am a stranger to the way. Gentlemen, know yourselves, I beseech you. +La G.+ To obey you, signior. +De L.+ Sir, you need not speak on't to this man: He's but my lord's barber. Since you command it so-- [_Exeunt +De Loome+ and +La Gitterne+._ +De F.+ Light, light, revenge! heave up thy gloomy tapers! That thou may'st see thy smeared altar shine In blood. Come, my Cleara! my better soul! Whose gallant mind will leave thy name In the first place of women, and raise thee temples. Bravest of thy sex, I could expire on thy cheek, And pay thee reverence, my most excellent sister. +Cle.+ Just heaven and your brave virtue (my dearest brother) Has waken'd my dull breast and trembling sex: I do not feel one pale or coward thought; But all [are] high and active to my wish. +De F.+ I see it lovely in thy brow: like the gleaming Dawnings of the morn, when day first kindles; Yet our presage is fair. _Enter +Duke+, whispering with +De Castro+._ +Cle.+ The Duke! +De F.+ Now, innocence, guard thyself! the wolf is up: See, how mischief teems and quickens on their brow: Some black thing is spawning: night must be midwife to't: If we stay, my poniard will break loose. [_Exeunt._ +Duke.+ Who's that? +De C.+ Some of the duchess's servants, I believe, sir. +Duke.+ Your hand will lay a new foundation to a kingdom; And I am busy how to divide it with thee, when We can call it ours. +De C.+ 'Tis his last night with mankind; the poison, sir, Will do't so subtlely: whilst he but holds the Knife, the least warmth attracts, and so dispreads Itself through his blood and spirits. Not any Struggling for't with nature; his life steals from Him in a gentle slumber. +Duke.+ Grow in my bosom, till you spread to the first honours Of your wish. My fortune is too narrow for your Merits, to whom I owe it and all my power, brave friend. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Steward+, +Butler+, +Cook+, and +Maids+._ +Stew.+ Come, my masters: the great ones shall not Have all to themselves: we'll have a civil Bout or two to get us a stomach to bedward, My sweethearts. +Cook.+ Noble master steward! +But.+ Brave master steward! +Cook.+ The fire of my respects shall ne'er go out unto you. +But.+ Nor mine be quench'd. +Stew.+ Here, cook, here's a bit for you to lick your lips at: And here's a clean napery for you, butler. [_Gives each a wench._ Take it. [_A dance._ +Stew.+ So, so; I am almost spent; every man to his function. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +King+, +Cardinal+, +Dessandro+, +Duke+, +Duchess+, attendants._ +King.+ The night begins to frown at our uncivil stay; And Hymen's tapers do burn out apace: Good night; you shall not stir a foot, Dessandro. +Duke.+ All the wishes of a bridal bed crown your wishes and embraces! +Card.+ And all the blessings of true joy. +Duke.+ To bed, to bed! [_Exeunt._ _Enter +De Loome+, +De Flame+, and +Cleara+._ +De L.+ You are as melancholy as [the] day, when sun sets: I hope you do not doubt my promise? +De F.+ No. +De L.+ Ye sha' not: I'll not leave you, till the grant be yours. Be confidant; and that's more than a courtier is bound To by his oath. Sir, where are you? Why, you were Living but e'en now; could speak--had sense, too: Ha' you seen anything against nature or stomach? Hum! sweetheart, has thy master any fits o' th' mother [_To +Cleara+._ Or falling-sickness? Pretty knave! 'tis pity This face was made for breeches. +De F.+ Ha! +De L.+ I am glad you are come to yourself again. +De F.+ You are pleasant. +De L.+ I would ha' you so: I have provided some mirth And good company for you. Please you, but spare an Idle hour from your sleep, we'll allow't again in The total of your business (I must not lose his Money). If you can smile, you shall not want a Subject: Besides, we shall have the wit of a Handsome lady or two, and hear their voices. _Enter +Steward+, and a man with bottles._ Look ye, sir, here's the _imprimis_ of the house: Master steward himself, whose company may be worth Your observation. Signior Silliman, this gentleman Is a friend of my lord duke's: pray, let him know he's welcome. +Stew.+ I am but the duchess's poor steward, sir, but my Place is at your command, sir. You shall not have Me claim kindred of her for all that; yet Sir Thomas de Loome here can say something, If he please, sir. +De F.+ Thank ye, sir. +Stew.+ Look ye, Sir Thomas, I never fail; here be the Perquisites of life and good company. There's that Will elevate voices. Come, disburthen thyself in That lobby, my honest rational camel! Is this gentleman dumb? He can say nothing but _Thank you, sir._ +De L.+ I fear he's planetstruck. +Stew.+ 'Tis great pity; yet he makes very gentle signs. +De F.+ I'm got into a dark and slippery labyrinth, and Grope but by a spark; whilst every pause is fatal. No. It had miscarried; and the king's presence Was a sacred guard: now, to break in upon them were To betray our lives to nothing. Sure, heaven will not Lose the glory of such a justice, and by a hand so Justly engaged. _Enter +La Gitterne+, +Torguina+, and +La Prate+._ +De L.+ The ladies! Good girls, this deserves a double Thanks. Here's a gentleman, whose merits may Invite him to your acquaintance, ladies. +Tor.+ I shall ever study that due honour, by all the Ambitiousness of your humble servant, sir. +La P.+ You may please to pardon her, whose demerits Make her modest in her expressions to honour You, noble sir. +De F.+ You engage a poor life to your virtue. +De L.+ What, ladies, have you put 'em together for a brave boy to-night? +La P.+ That's as the dice run, sir. +La G.+ The colonel will find a piece of service on't to-night. +La P.+ If he put her to the worst, 'twill be worth her pardon, being so tried a soldier. +Tor.+ If his valour should be shortbreath'd, a retreat may be honourable sometimes. +La P.+ If he fight not flat coward, and make it in policy. +Tor.+ Sir, we have read over Aristotle's _Politics_ and Polybius to that purpose. +La P.+ Who calls policy the very breath of all war. +Tor.+ And so, by your ladyship's good licence, in all battalions, leaguers, skirmishes, sieges, invasions, parleys, treaties, truces, and other cessations. +De F.+ Excellent ladies! +De L.+ For the theoric. +La P.+ We can say something to the practic too, signior. +Tor.+ Both concerning your postures and motions, as Which may be necessary for service: her ladyship has Written a small tract for her private experience, To show how they may be reduced, and a man Exercis'd with far less trouble, but with as much Activity and proportion of comfort. +La P.+ For body and service, madam? +Tor.+ I mean so: I warrant you this gentleman Understands me. +De F.+ And will not your goodness bestow it on the public? It would rank your name amongst the illustrious Benefactors of the general cause. +La P.+ I know not what I may, sir, when the press is fit For a woman of quality. Is this gentleman a soldier? +De F.+ That ambition has grown with me from the Cradle, madam. +La P.+ I shall render myself with more endearment to Your worth, and ever subscribe to soldiers as the bravest men. +De L.+ The duchess, I hope, will be of your opinion; But, madam, had I the use of that key for an Hour or two, I would take some notes in shorthand Behind the hangings. +La P.+ You wou'd? +De L.+ Yes, indeed, my precious wit, I shou'd. +De F.+ That key! +Tor.+ Signior, pleaseth you to think our humble Invitation worthy the grant of your society. +De F.+ I could wish the trouble of ten lives more, to be Accepted in your command, fairest of ladies, +La P.+ Were all our days multiplied into years, and Those years to lives, 'twere but a span of time To study our thanks in.---- _Exeunt._ _Manent +Silliman+ and +La Prate+._ +Sil.+ Madam! lady! _I never knew what bandage was until now: I fear the golden heart you sent me was Enchanted: I long to see you._---- +La P.+ What d'ye mean, sir? +Sil.+ Ha, ha, ha! hum! nothing, madam, but there Be them that love a good nature with all their heart; That have four hundred pounds a year, and money In their purse to be knighted, if need be. +La P.+ Wit and opportunity assist me! The thing will make an excellent husband for the Times; and four hundred pounds a year is a Considerable fortune to boot. I must take him at His bond, or perhaps die in the list of stale chambermaids: A court-plague for a misspent youth and service. +Sil.+ I am a gentleman already, else the heralds took my Money for nothing: and methinks, madam, you And I might---- +La P.+ What, signior? +Sil.+ Be as wise as our forefathers. +La P.+ You and I? +Sil.+ Yes, what say ye to _you and I_? Is not _you and I_ Good Spanish? Why, madam, I am able to warm My own sheets, and get children without the help of A doctor; and can kiss as warm and close: And you shall swear my breath is sweet. +La P.+ Y'are merry, sir, beyond my apprehension. +Sil.+ Pardon me, lady, if I be: I mean no harm, I protest. +La P.+ Very witty! +Sil.+ I am what I am: but I was never beholden to any Living thing for thus much wit: I might Have been an arrant younger brother, but for my mother---- Thereby hangs a tale, madam, and yet I cou'd ha' danc'd My cinque pace in Greek at a dozen. Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, cost me five shillings: Can you believe me, lady? By this light, you shall Wear this diamond! There; sha't, sha't ha't: Sha't, sha't, sha't ha't. +La P.+ There is such sorcery in your words! +Sil.+ No, no, no; troth, love me: come, thou shalt; By this----nay, never sigh, my dear; they are All orient, sweet wench: Thou art worth all Spain For a good disposition---- +La P.+ You will undo me, master steward. +Sil.+ Pish! who? I undo thee? my life! thou dost wrong Me: canst find in thy heart to think so? away, away. +La P.+ But is this profession honourable, sir? +Sil.+ I scorn to deal upon dishonourable terms. Do I Kiss like a man that would propound dishonourable Conditions? +La P.+ Men are so nice and cunning! +Sil.+ Do'st think me a Jew; swear me to anything. +La P.+ Well, you have taken a poor heart at advantage; and make me blush to confess it. +Sil.+ Kiss me; here's my hand, till death us do part: Thine more than mine own, Signior Bouche Ouverte Sillimano: seal'd and deliver'd; but I hope, lady, there is no quit rent to be paid out of this copyhold. +La P.+ Not for your life, sir. +Sil.+ Lawful possession then, and thou'rt mine own. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +De Flame+ and +Cleara+._ +De F.+ So, let 'em drench their souls in laughter: kindle Thy noble heart into a flame, my sister! Fate cannot give nor we ask more unto Our cause: all things conspire and prompt us to't. Just and divine revenge! I'll strew thy midnight haunts with cypress wreaths, And wear thee in rich medals. Propitious goddess! This night thy wan and meagre cheek shall blush, And smile with warm and wanton blood. Night grows heavy-ey'd, And drops her slumbering head in her dark bosom: And now their rage and lust will make them ripe To bleed. Let us embrace, and interchange A sigh or two, Cleara: whate'er become of me, Thou wilt wear chaplets in Elysium. +Cle.+ My hopes and joys are yours, dear sir, and heaven, I hope, will not divide them. [_Unlocks the door, and discovers them._ +De F.+ See, what a modest blush Sleep has cast o'er their guilt! +Cle.+ Here is a look Tyrants would bashfully gaze at, and fear To think it mortal. Glorious hypocrisy! Virtue is at wonder in herself, and looks pale, To own what she has given. +De F.+ I should mock heaven's justice, to let 'em dream Their souls away in such a calm: we'll startle Them into horror of their sin, and then Let 'em see the vengeance they deserve. +Cle.+ Ye chaster powers, to whom I and my virginity Groan, may every drop breathe incense to your justice? Whilst thus I break their springs open. [_Stabs +Claudilla+._ +Claud.+ O Dessandro! O, whose hand's that? +Cle.+ Cleara's, Cleara's! carry that name in thy last breath Down to the shades of lust and perjury. +De F.+ So quick and brave, Cleara? +Claud.+ O! [_Expirat._ +Des.+ Cleara! madam, madam! your sleeps are troubled---- Who's there? De Flame! +De F.+ Raise not thy voice an accent: if thou dost, by my eternal hopes and soul! this strikes it back unto thy heart. See'st thou revenge sit pale upon the point? 'Tis steeled with virgin's curses, and shall fly like lightning through thy blood; and it is a justice thy vast pride hath lost thee to. +Des.+ O, what hast thou done? A deed that flinty Scythians and curl'd Ethiops Would hide their eyes from. +De F.+ Our revenge shall wear a glorious title. Know'st Thou that injur'd face? It is Cleara's, injur'd Cleara's. +Des.+ Cleara! +De F.+ What see'st thou on that brow? +Des.+ Murder! +De F.+ Horror and guilt unto thy soul. +Des.+ I'll not be tamely butcher'd, coward. Without there! Help, help, help! +De F.+ Whirlwinds and earthquakes cannot do it. Think on thy sin. +Cle.+ Thy perjury. +De F.+ Thy lust. [_+Cleara+ stabs at him._ +Des.+ Cleara! O, thou hast a skilful hand in Murder. Help, help! murder! +De F.+ So falls a wretched statue from its haughty station, when Fate would make it ominous and fright a state. What a thick cloud steams from his tainted blood! The air shrinks back, and with dull wings fans it from heaven. _Enter +De Loome+, +La Gitterne+, +Torguina+, &c._ +Tor.+ Murder, murder! 'twas his voice. +De L.+ It was his voice. +Tor.+ The key? +La G.+ Gone! +Tor.+ Cut from my side! I'm betray'd! +De L.+ Look, search the room: where's the stranger? +La G.+ The door is fast. [_Knocks._ +De F.+ You may come in: make up your wonder there. [_Opens the door._ +Tor.+ My lady murder'd! +De L.+ You have astonish'd heaven. +Tor.+ And pull'd eternal curses on your head. +De F.+ They'll fall like brittle shafts upon my shield. +Cle.+ Unjust Dessandro! yet on thy lip I'll Tender my last vows, that the world may tell I loved thee dead--and this--and this---- [_Kisses him, then stabs herself._ +De F.+ Hold, hold that cruel hand! Cleara! sister! +De L.+ Cleara! This is a horrid scene, my lord. +De F.+ 'Twould not be worth my name, did it not strike Amazement through your souls, and leave a paleness On his cheek that hears it. But here, here I Could melt, transfuse my brains through my sad eyes, Till they wept blood, and dropp'd their jelly forth: She was a jewel too rich for our dull orb. _Enter more servants._ You need not multiply your fears; I am Too proud of my revenge to start from it: Let the law frown, and fall in tempests on me. Cowards repent, When valiant blood ne'er pales at the event. [_Exeunt._ ACTUS QUINTUS, SCENA PRIMA. _Enter +Pirez+ and +De Loome+._ +De L.+ A sad court indeed, my lord. +Pir.+ As sad a kingdom! Where the news is spread, men that hear it stand struck, as if their own passing-bells did call unto them. +De L.+ Kings' glasses are as brittle as their meanest subjects', their footings as slippery and uncertain. He was a brave prince, and his life will be memorable in Castile. +Pir.+ His death is much admired for the sudden strangeness of it. What opinion give the physicians on't? +De L.+ They've a hard name for't, if I could think on't. +Pir.+ Not suspicion of poison? +De L.+ How, my lord! by whom would you suspect it? +Pir.+ Nay, I dare suspect none, nor don't; but such quirks of state I have read of in the days of old. +De L.+ I never saw him discount a day with more content and freedom; his very thoughts were hearty. +Pir.+ 'Twas a fatal one, and will give a sad discourse to our posterity, and leave it on record in bleeding characters. +De L.+ The count's resolution had too much blood and cruelty in't. +Pir.+ Dessandro urged as much as mortal sense could groan with. +De L.+ I now call to mind, still as he spake and glanced upon Cleara's face, I had strange startlings in me. +Pir.+ As the times have. +De. L.+ The times, my lord? for what? +Pir.+ The king's death, sir. +De L.+ Why, my lord, the times are not of the worst presage, though that may cloud them a little. +Pir.+ I am no Booker, sir, nor Lilly to prognosticate what seven years may travail with; but I could wish the price of knaves may fall. +De L.+ Your lordship's virtues command not a more humble and observant creature. [_Exit._ +Pir.+ This fellow must be muzzled. _Enter +Sampayo+._ +Samp.+ Who's that? +Pir.+ The duke's thing, his trifle-broker. +Sano.+ The king's now. +Pir.+ Castile did never hear more news, I fear. +Samp.+ We shall now see the fine turns and games of the state. +Pir.+ When fools and knaves chase trump. +Samp.+ Now heads and points will be the sport. +Pir.+ The king will have the heads then, I believe. +Samp.+ Observe 'em. +Pir.+ So near? _Enter +Bereo+, nobles soliciting him with papers._ +All.+ Heavens bless your majesty! Heavens keep your majesty! [_Within._ Please you hear your most faithful subjects? +Duke.+ Who are they, that bark so? +De L.+ A rout of porters, prentices, and sailors' wives, with such a spawn, who are modest petitioners your majesty would give 'em leave to govern you in some matters of state, and humbly pray to be admitted of your privy council. Here's another, sir, from the most reverend bags of the city to purchase all the churches of your majesty for warehouses; and this, sir, from the corporation of weavers, cobblers, and feltmakers: that you would please to give 'em leave to fire all universities and schools of learning, that the profane might better see the truth. +Duke.+ No more. Their stinking breath will stifle me! Keep back their clamour. Wealth and ease have made the rascals wanton, and profane their allegiance. My lord [_De Castro kneels_], you need not kneel in a cause, that equally concerns us with you; and the groans of your brother's wounds echo unto our sleeps. Our honour and the laws bleed in them, until a justice stop their issues, which our own care shall take a speedy account of. Sampayo! [_Whispers._ +Samp.+ I shall, my lord. [_Exit._ +Duke.+ O my lords, we are circled in a tide of grief, Where every billow threatens a grave: but in your loves Our hope takes new life, which we as zealously Shall sacrifice again to you and yours. Let me be beholden t' you for a minute's conference With my own sad thoughts. [_Exeunt._ So take breath, my hopes. Whilst we with pride look upon the world behind us, And then survey the glory of our progress And success, the print of every step is glorious, And methinks we stand like Rome herself, in midst Of all her triumphs, when her threat'ned head Lean'd on the spangled breast of heaven, and Jostled with the gods; from whose imperious frown The world took all her laws and dooms. Yet her Vast story shall look pale to mine; and time Begin his great example here. Castile, thou now shalt blush for thy neglect: I'll print thy scorns on thy own brow, till my revenge Look lovely as did Rome's, in her bright flames, To Nero; and Nature shall repent, that she Mistook the man Fortune meant thine. Then up, My soul, and from thy glorious stand see Thy proud hopes and wishes court thee! Thou hast Been bashful yet, and hid in blushes. Make Room for thy more spacious thoughts, and let The petty world know this: all things Depend upon the breath of gods and kings. [_Exit._ _Enter two +Officers+._ +1st Off.+ There, there! Lay that in the place; so, so; here, help to spread this carpet. Quick, quick! +2d Off.+ Will our new king be here to give the forked herd an oration? +1st Off.+ An halter! Thou dost so fumble! But what's the general voice of the king's death? Here's the mourning for that bar. +2d Off.+ Marry, some think he died against his will; and others, that his brother--Where stands this?--will bury him very royally---- +1st Off.+ Hum! and others think if thou wert hanged, when 'tis thy due, there would be quickly a knave less. Despatch, despatch! I hear them coming. _Enter +Judges+, the two Ladies, +DE LOOME+, +LA GITTERNE+, and others. +De Flame+ stands at the bar._ +Off.+ Pray, by your leave; make way; give back there! For shame, sir; you press so hard upon the judges, they scarce have liberty to breathe. Clear the bar; peace! +1st Judge.+ My lord, here's none but knows you, and I believe do grieve to see you stand thus, and for a fact of such a bloody nature. A gentleman of your fair hopes and fortunes, blood and spirit, and other excellent parts, all cast upon untimely hazards by such an act (as indeed I know not how to name it). You needs must, therefore, be worthy our grief; and I presume you are not now to know the laws and customs of this your country, with what religious care they look unto the safety of our lives and our estates, and with what strictness on perpetrations of such a dye---- +2d Judge.+ Especially, where innocent blood is shed; and therefore we, being but the tongues of the law (my lord), may hope you will interpret the justice of it clearly from our mouths. +De F.+ Please you, most reverend lords, is there aught else but this I am to stand accused for? +2d Judge.+ Not that we know. +De F.+ Then, my good lords, you need not labour much to find out circumstances to condemn me; nor do I wish or think, my lords, to satisfy the law by talking in my own defence. Nor will I brand myself with such a fear, much less hope, as to bespeak a melting tear. That were to wish the act undone, and rob my justice of a glory I would be torn to atoms for. No, I come to meet the law; and if your wisdoms can contract the spacious volumes of it into one doom, I shall not startle, or divide my breast. My resolution was above it, when first I undertook to be my own law and judge. +1st Judge.+ I grieve to hear this language from you: it takes much from the man that you have seemed, my lord; stain not your noble and religious fame with such an atheism. +2d Judge.+ Look back into the deed, my lord. See, what a tide of blood pursues you, and breaks upon your soul in angry seas. +De F.+ Look back to our fame, grave lords, the blood and honour of our family; nor think it my vainglory to urge it here, since the cause does. There has not yet, in all the ages it hath served the state, one stain fallen on our escutcheon; and although, my lords, these honours are derived to us in a vast circle of time and blood, the passage must be still through our veins, and so are treasured here as heat in fire; so as the least taint in us reflects a blush on the first virtue of our great ancestors. And what has man called sacred but his honour? That dwells not in the smiles of Fortune; nor can she place the fool or coward in that rank. And can your wisdoms think ours so cheap, as to become the scorn of such? +2d Judge.+ My lord, 'twould better satisfy all those that know you to hear your grief than passion. +De F.+ O, cry ye mercy! He was your lordship's kinsman; yet I will add, he basely did betray a love and innocence more noble than a thousand of their lives. Poor Cleara! perjured his faith and honour, and quite dissolved their holy ties in the lascivious arms of her, whose name shall not take honour from my breath. +2d Judge.+ We spend time; pray, give those ladies leave to speak. _Enter +De Castro+._ +De C.+ My lords, the king is come to sit amongst ye. +Off.+ Stand back there, ho! you, Goodman Roundhead, you'd best breathe in the king's face: pull back your horns, sir!--D' you mutter? Take that, and crowd further. The rogues are as hollow as a vault, and sound like one with a blow. _Enter +Bereo+, +De Castro+, attendants; at the other door, the +King+ himself._ [_Within._] The king, the king! Whoo? +1st Judge.+ What's the matter? +Duke.+ De Castro, is this a mask or apparition? +King.+ Seize on the traitor! +Duke.+ Ha! +King.+ Hence, monstrous thing! +Duke.+ Traitor! +King.+ Yes; and a foul one. My lords, suspend Your wonder. We thank ye. Prodigy to thy blood, We have given you leave to wanton in your guilt And see at what mighty impiety it would reach; To fasten you the surer in your toil. Take your places. Durst thou derive the glory Of our grandsires to thyself, whilst with unnatural hands Thou tear'st their graves up; mingling blood and shame With their bless'd dust? Have we not shar'd our kingdom with thee: Let thee into our heart nearer than nature, If possible? And could all this beget No better thanks than poison? The very thought Unnerves my joints. +Duke.+ Treason? Who dares avow it, sir, Or charge the least stain upon my loyal bosom, And make it good? I challenge all mankind, And envy from the nether hells; 'tis but Some engine to betray me to you. +De C.+ I did but quit a sin, Which would have betray'd us both eternally, And bore so sad a shape of horror, As it affrighted all within me, and, like a frenzy, Held me, till I had purged it from my bosom. +Duke.+ Had thy revenge no other way but this, To undermine the virtue of nature against itself? My lords, there's forgery in't, poison, and treason! It did amaze my innocence. Sounds, that my blood Do shiver at. And did not I see his father's treason Blush yet upon his brow, I should not think Castile infected with the thought. +1st Judge.+ My Lord De Castro, What proof or circumstance have you to urge This clearer to his highness? +Duke.+ Grave patriots of the law, Give me your leave in this, that would blemish The honour of my fame for ever. Let him produce but any That may accuse me to your reverend judgments, And Bereo will lay down his head to the block. But I know your wisdoms will discern a plot in't: And how far he stands incompetent against me In faith and honour. +King.+ What say you, my lord? +De C.+ Sir, what I have told your Majesty--my life Shall make good on my torture: my brother being dead, Heaven only and my conscience can clear it: And to quit my innocence of malice, your own conscience Must tell you, my lord, that when first you used my brother To ensnare me, and press'd it in the duchess's garden, How much I argued to divert you; but then-- +Duke.+ My lords, I desire justice and reparation On the villain. +2d Judge.+ My Lord. De Castro, The king has pleased to give us your relation, In which (though the least tenderness cannot be Impertinent to his sacred safety) there's nothing That can raise the law to any argument, which may reach The Duke, scarce as a peer, which looks upon him As the second man in whom all our safeties and hopes are stor'd: Not to be touch'd with every jealousy, But at a high and reverend form of proof. +Duke.+ Let me appeal unto yourself, dread sir; Which of my actions or services of state Can be suspected? And do you not perceive That where his father left, his treason would begin? +De C.+ Help me, dear truth, or else I shall suffer For my loyalty. Great sir, be pleased---- +Duke.+ That most judicious judge has well observ'd, There is an envy in his soul would reach From you to your succession, and leave the character Of his father's treason on it in blood and ruin. Wretched man, trust me, I grieve for thy slidefrom piety; And when I look upon the love and pity I have cast away on such a thing, I repent My easy faith. Good heaven! what will men fall to? +King.+ Take the Count unto the citadel, and let none Be admitted to him upon peril-- [_Exeunt with +De Castro+._ Brother, they were no easy insinuations That did engage our fears to this: but such As nam'd a higher proof and circumstance. And, we confess, it struck our nature with some passionate strugglings: Not that the wish of our ambition is fix'd here, And would revive a term of years To rob ye of one minute's glorious trouble: Yet, my lord, if our laws take care To preserve the meanest subject's life, our own Ought not to be look'd on with less providence: And fears are happy cautions many times. But mine retire. Let our desires meet, and reconcile me to your arms---- [_Embrace._ His merit shall find the justice it has scandall'd, If it stand guilty. +Duke.+ If, my lord? Can yet that scruple stay behind? _Returns with +De Castro+ and +Dessandro+. A physician and chirurgeon, &c._ +De C.+ See, royal sir, I have met a miracle, [_They kneel._ That heaven has preserv'd and sent to guard your Sacred highness and the truth. +De F.+ Dessandro risen from the dead? +King.+ Dessandro! +Des.+ The vilest wretch alive, who throws himself At your feet in tears of blood, and so much Horrid guilt as calls for all the wrath of This and the other world: not daring to Lift my hopes to any pardon. O sir! 'Twas he (back'd by that bad Prince and other giddy Hopes) that would have seduc'd my brother to That act against your sacred life. +King.+ Would it went no further? Duke de Bereo, Can now your brow change colour? +Duke.+ 'Tis all imposture. +King.+ Fie, fie; don't glory against heaven, that hath Left thy sin to subterfuge. +Duke.+ You would not fright me from myself? +King.+ Well; our guard! +Doct.+ May it please-- [_Kneels._ +King.+ Rise, What would you say, sir? +Doct.+ Under your gracious licence this. We found our princely lady and the lady Cleara cold in their clodded gore: this Colonel so spent in expense of blood, as we could not say alive; for that half spark of heat left in his veins was then e'en going out. Our care having preserved and kindled it to life again, after his shattered faculties could pant and breathe, he called for pen and ink, and caused us to write what is there contained. [_Gives a paper._ +Des.+ Of too much truth; and I blush for those few Drops of blood I have left to expiate. +Duke.+ I am betrayed and lost! Could'st be in love with that saint life, for one Poor minute's smile, to betray it to ignominy and law? I could trample on thy skull, until thy reeking Brain sparkled about the dust. See how busily They contract their dusky brows! Consult things Safely, and let some reverend statute be ordained In honour of all cowards. [_Aside._] De Castro! for this good Service know, 'twas I that laid thy father's head Upon the block: complotted with the Portuguese To make him guilty to the King: and envying that He spread with so much shadow in the state, by a close Faction rend'red him odious to the people: an engine, I knew could not fail. I hurried thee to the Duchess's Wanton bed, Dessandro, knowing De Flame's high Blood would quit the debt I owed thee---- +Des.+ He's proud all mischief can call him patron. +Duke.+ Nor had I shar'd the pleasure of a kiss to you Or him, but that our purpose needs would have it so. +De F.+ Sir! +Duke.+ The language is plain and true. +De F.+ Then Claudilla was your court-mistress, Duke?-- 'Twere profanation to say whore! +Duke.+ Young lord, I can forgive that language In a suffering man. +De F.+ Forgive it! +Duke.+ Forgive it; and had De Flame himself Enjoy'd her bed, and reap'd the scattered minutes Of our love, he must have found another gloss more Safe and honourable. +De F.+ Must! What saw you in me did promise So tame a thing, as to feed on your high scraps? Glorious mischief! +Des.+ My lord, I beg your mercy; and to deserve it Will weep the remnant of this unworthy life Unto Cleara's name. +De F.+ All mankind has my peaceful wish, but this Black speckled serpent, whose load doth make The earth to groan and sweat. +Duke.+ My fair Claudilla, methinks I see thee Lovely in that ghastly trim of death, while Yet thy soul was struggling through thy cruel Wounds. +De F.+ The day begins to frown and creep into Eternal night: we'll bed together in one grave, Cleara. Castile shall hide us in a golden heap, and name me With her patriots for taking this foul monster From her bosom. +Duke.+ I'll find thee in the myrtle groves below, And leave a story that shall tell the world, How much I lov'd thee. [_They stab each other._ +King.+ Desperate atheists! +Duke.+ You were beforehand, sir. +De F.+ You've overtaken me: the world is hid in a Cloud, and shrinks to chaos. O, whither Must I wander in this mist? So, so-- I feel thee glide away, and leave me sunk Upon a quicksand. [_Expirat._ +King.+ What a thirst of blood burnt up their hearts, That they must quench it in their own? +Duke.+ Hast thou not air enough, my panting soul? O, what a stitch is coming! [_Expirat._ +King.+ Wou'd thou had'st better lov'd thyself and us: For while thou priz'd the honour of that blood, We priz'd thee with it. O ambition! The grandame of all sin, that strikes at stars With an undaunted brow, whilst thus thy feet Slide to the nether hell! Like some vast stream, That takes into its womb all springs that neighbour by it, And would proudly carry all their currents in its own: Swells o'er its banks, and wantons like a tyrant. Take hence the sight: it stirs our indignation. [_Exeunt cum corporibus._ +Omnes.+ Long live the great and good King of Castile! +King.+ We thank ye, and just heaven which hath (unto wonder) Unknotted all these mischiefs, and kept us safe: And because we do not love to use the laws In their extremity, or execute with blood, Where we can moderate without; but chiefly, Dessandro, to endear ye more to heaven In your acknowledgment, we do enjoin you To some religious house of Orders, there By an humble life to expiate your guilt. +Des.+ Upon my knees I do acknowledge Your God-like mercy. +King.+ De Castro Our thanks shall make your loyalty Exemplary to all times: nor wish we to live longer Than to gain the faith of all; that we may find Ourself and title most secure, and greatest In your loves; which gives us more Than giddy fortune can---- +This is our fate, and to the wise is known; All goods without us are, not (sure) our own.+ In tenui labor est; at tenuis non gloria. THE ADVENTURES OF FIVE HOURS. _EDITIONS._ _The Adventures of Five Hours. A Tragi-Comedy._--Non ego Ventosæ Plebis suffragia venor. _Horat. Fʳ. 21º, 1662. Imprimatur, John Birkenhead. London. Printed for Henry Herringman, at the Anchor in the Lower Walk of the New Exchange, 1663. fol.[29]_ _The Adventures of Five Houres: a Tragi-Comedy. As it is acted at His Royal Highness the Duke of York's Theatre. The third impression. Revised and corrected by the author, Sir Samuel Tuke, Kt. and Bart._ Nonumque prematur in Annum. _Horat. de Art Poet. London: Printed by T. N. for Henry Herringman, at the sign of the Blew Anchor, on the Lower Walk of the New Exchange._ 1671. 4º.[30] FOOTNOTES: [29] The title of the copy of 1664 is precisely the same as that of the first edition. It is in 4to. [30] There was a fourth impression in 1704. PREFACE. Sir Samuel Tuke, of Temple Cressy, in the county of Essex, was a colonel of horse in the king's army, and served against the Parliament, as long as the affairs of his master had any prospect of success. He was very active in that rising in the county of Essex which ended fatally to some of the chief actors in it. From the prologue to the present play, spoken at court, it appears that he intended to retire from business soon after the Restoration, but was diverted from that design for some time by his Majesty's recommending him to adapt a Spanish play[31] to the English stage, which he executed with some degree of success. On the 31st March,[32] 1664, he was created a baronet. He married Mary, the daughter of Edward Sheldon, a lady who was one of the dressers to Queen Mary, and probably a Roman Catholic, of which persuasion our author seems also to have been.[33] He died at Somerset House, on the 26th of January 1673, and was buried in the vault under the chapel there. Langbaine, by mistake, says he was alive at the time he (Langbaine) published his "Lives of the Dramatic Poets." Sir Samuel did not escape the censure of his brother poets.[34] One of them, speaking of Cowley, says he Writ verses unjustly in praise of Sam Tuke.[35] And in the same poem-- Sam Tuke sat, and formally smiled at the rest; But Apollo, who well did his vanity know, Call'd him to the bar to put him to the test, But his muse was so stiff, she scarcely could go. She pleaded her age, desir'd a reward; It seems in her age she doated on praise: But Apollo resolv'd that such a bold bard Should never be grac'd with a per'wig of bays. There is some reason for assigning to Sir Samuel Take part authorship of "Pompey the Great," which is generally supposed to have been translated by Waller, Lord Dorset, Sir C. Sedley, and Godolphin, and printed in 1664. At the end of an edition of Sir John Denham's poems, "printed by J. M. for H. Herringman," 1684, is a catalogue of other works published by the same bookseller, and among them this entry:--"By Samuel Tuke, and several persons of honour. Pompey." Sir Samuel was one of the first members of the Royal Society, and wrote a history of the ordering and generation of green Colchester oysters, printed in Spratt's "History," p. 307. FOOTNOTES: [31] [By Calderon. It is supposed that the Earl of Bristol, author of "Elvira," assisted Tuke.--See Halliwell's "Dictionary of Old Plays," 1860, in v. Halliwell there quotes a passage from Evelyn's "Diary," where Evelyn, by a slip of the pen, speaks of Sir _George_ Tuke, an oversight which is left uncorrected.] [32] Heylin's "Help to History." [33] Wood's "Ath.," vol. ii. p. 802. [34] Dryden's "Miscellanies," vol. ii. p. 92. [35] These were prefixed to the edition of "The Adventures of Five Hours," printed the year after the author was made a baronet, but without bearing on the title any mark of his advancement. He is there called only Colonel Tuke. TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE HENRY HOWARD OF NORFOLK.[36] Since it is your pleasure, Noble Sir, that I should hold my fortune from you, like those tenants, who pay some inconsiderable trifle in lieu of a valuable rent, I humbly offer you this poem, in acknowledgment of my tenure: and I am well pleas'd with this occasion to publish my sense of your favours, since it seems to me a kind of ingratitude to be thankful in private. It was bred upon the terrace-walks in your garden at Albury; and if I mistake not, it resembles the place where it was brought up: the plot is delightful, the elevations natural, the ascents easy, without any great embellishments of art. I designed the character of Antonio, as a copy of your steady virtue; if it appear to those, who have the honour to know you, short of the original, I take leave to inform them, that you have not sat to me long; 'tis possible hereafter I may gratify my country, for their civility to this essay, with something more worthy of your patronage and their indulgence. In the interim, I make it my glory to avow that, had Fortune been just to me, she could not have recompensed the loyal industry of my life with a more illustrious title than that which you have been pleased to confer upon me, of Your Friend. To which (as in gratitude I am bound) I subjoin that of Your most humble servant, S. TUKE. FOOTNOTES: [36] This dedication, and the prologue and epilogue which follow, are only found in the first and second edition.--_Collier._ THE FIRST SCENE IS THE CITY OF SEVILLE. _The +Prologue+ enters with a play-bill in his hand, and reads_--This day, being the 15th of December, shall be acted a new play, never play'd before, call'd _The Adventures of Five Hours._ A NEW PLAY. Th' are i' the right, for I dare boldly say, The English stage ne'er had so new a play; The dress, the author, and the scenes are new. This ye have seen before ye'll say; 'tis true; But tell me, gentlemen, who ever saw A deep intrigue confin'd to five hours' law? Such as for close contrivance yields to none: A modest man may praise what's not his own. 'Tis true, the dress is his, which he submits To those who are, and those who would be wits; Ne'er spare him, gentlemen; for to speak truth, He has a per'lous cens'rer been in's youth; And now grown bald with age, doating on praise, He thinks to get a periwig of bays. Teach him what 'tis, in this discerning age, To bring his heavy genius on the stage; Where you have seen such nimble wits appear, That pass'd so soon, one scarce could say th'were here. Yet, after our discoveries of late Of their designs, who would subvert the state, You'll wonder much, if it should prove his lot To take all England with a Spanish plot; But if, through his ill conduct or hard fate, This foreign plot (like that of eighty-eight) Should suffer shipwreck in your narrow seas, You'll give your modern poet his writ of ease; For, by th' example of the King of Spain, He resolves ne'er to trouble you again. THE PROLOGUE AT COURT. HE ADDRESSES HIMSELF TO THE PIT. [Sidenote: This refers to the author's purpose of retirement, at that time when his Majesty recommended this plot to him.] As to a dying lamp one drop of oil Gives a new blaze, and makes it live awhile; So th' author, seeing his decaying light, And therefore thinking to retire from sight, Was hindered by a ray from the upper sphere, Just at that time he thought to disappear. He chanced to hear his Majesty once say, He lik'd this plot; he stay'd, and writ the play: So should obsequious subjects catch the minds Of princes, as your seamen do the winds. If this attempt then shows more zeal than light, 'T may teach you to obey, though not to write. [Sidenote: He looking up, and seeing the King, starts. He kneels. He rises.] Ah! he is there himself. Pardon my sight, My eyes were dazzled with excess of light; Even so the sun, who all things else displays, Is hid from us i' the glory of his rays. Will you vouchsafe your presence? You, that were given To be our Atlas, and support our heaven? Will you, dread sir, your precious moments lose To grace the first endeavours of our muse? This with your character most aptly suits, Even heaven itself is pleas'd with the first-fruits. PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. Having been desired by a lady, who has more than ordinary favour for this play, though in other things very judicious, to make a song, and insert it in that scene where you may now read it, I found it more difficult to disobey the commands of this excellent person, than to obtain of myself to write any more upon subjects of this nature. This occasioned the revising of this piece, upon which I had not cast my eyes since it was first printed; and finding there some very obvious faults (with respect to their judgments who have been pleased to applaud it), I could not well imagine how they came to escape my last hand; unless poetic rage, or (in a more humble phrase) heat of fancy, will not at the same time admit the calm temper of judgment; or that, being importuned by those for whose benefit this play was intended, I was even forced to expose it before it was fit to be seen in such good company. This refers only to the dress, for certainly the plot needs no apology; it was taken out of Don Pedro Calderon,[37] a celebrated Spanish author, the nation of the world who are the happiest in the force and delicacy of their inventions, and recommended to me by his sacred majesty as an excellent design, whose judgment is no more to be doubted than his commands to be disobeyed. And therefore it might be a great presumption in me to enter my sentiments with his royal suffrage; but as secretaries of state subscribe their names to the mandates of their prince, so at the bottom of the leaf I take the boldness to sign my opinion, that this is incomparably the best plot that I ever met with. And yet, if I may be allowed to do myself justice, I might acquaint the readers that there are several alterations in the copy which do not disgrace the original. I confess, 'tis something new that trifles of this nature should have a second edition; but if in truth this essay be at present more correct, I have then found an easy way to gratify their civility who have been pleased to indulge the errors in the former impressions. If they who have formerly seen or read this play should not perceive the amendments, then I have touched the point, since the chiefest art in writing is the concealing of art; and they who discover 'em, and are pleased with them, are indebted only to themselves for their new satisfaction, since their former favour to our negligent Muses has occasioned their appearing again in a more studied dress; and certainly those labours are not ungrateful with which the writers and readers are both pleased. And since I am upon the subject of novelties, I take the boldness to advertise the reader that, though it be unusual, I have in a distinct column prefixed the several characters of the most eminent persons in the play, that, being acquainted with them at his first setting out, he may the better judge how they are carried on in the whole composition. For, plays being moral pictures, their chiefest perfections consist in the force and congruity of passions and humours, which are the features and complexion of our minds; and I cannot choose but hope that he will approve the ingenuity of this design, though possibly he may dislike the painting. As for those who have been so angry with this innocent piece, not guilty of so much as that current wit--obscenity and profaneness--these are to let them know that, though the author converses with but few, he writes to all; and aiming as well at the delight as profit of his readers, if there be any amongst them who are pleased to enter their haggard muses at so mean a quarry, they may freely use their poetic licence, for he pretends not to any royalty on the mount of Parnassus; and I dare answer for him, that he will sing no more till he comes into that choir where there is room enough for all; and such, he presumes, is the good-breeding of these critics, that they will not be so unmannerly as to crowd him there. +Farewell.+ FOOTNOTES: [37] [Don Pedro Calderon della Barca appears to have been born at Madrid, of a good family, in 1601. Like Lope de Vega, his contemporary, he signalised his dramatic genius at a very early date, producing his "Carro del Cielo" at the age of thirteen. He devoted the better part of his life to the military profession, but afterwards took holy orders, and became a canon of Toledo. He is supposed to have died in 1681. His plays were printed at Madrid between 1683 and 1691, in 9 vols. 4º; but the best edition, according to Brunet, is that published at Madrid, 1760-63, 11 vols. 4º. Some of Calderon's dramas were never printed, and have perished.] PROLOGUE. SPOKEN BY MR BETTERTON.[38] If we could hit on't, gallants, there are due Certain respects from writers and from you: Which, well observ'd, would celebrate this age, And both support and vindicate the stage. If there were only candour on your part, And on the poets', judgment, fancy, art; If they remember that their audience Are persons of the most exalted sense; And you consider well the just respect Due to their poems, when they are correct; Our two houses then may have the fate To help to form the manners of the state: For there are crimes arraign'd a' th' poets' bar, Which cannot be redress'd at Westminster. Our ancient bards their morals did dispense In numbers, to insinuate the sense, Knowing that harmony affects the soul, And who our passions charm, our wills control. This our well-meaning author had in view, And, though but faintly executed, you Indulg'd th' attempt with such benevolence, That he has been uneasy ever since; For though his vanity you gratified, The obligation did provoke his pride. But he has now compounded with ambition For that more solid greatness, self-fruition; And, going to embrace a civil death, He's loth to die indebted to your breath. Therefore he would be even w' you, but wants force; The stream will rise no higher than the source. And they, who treat such judges, should excel; Here 'tis to do ill, to do only well. He has, as other writers have, good-will, And only wants (like those) nature and skill; But, since he cannot reach the envied height, H' has cast some grains in this to mend the weight; And, being to part w' you, prays you to accept This revived piece as legacy or debt. FOOTNOTES: [38] This prologue first appeared in the edition of 1671, after the revival of the play.--_Collier._ DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. +PERSONS.+ +RELATIONS.+ +CHARACTERS.+ +Don Henrique+, _In love with Camilla, Choleric, jealous, but rejected. revengeful._ +Don Carlos+, _Near kinsman to Don A well-natured, moral Henrique. gentleman._ +Don Octavio+, _In love with Porcia, A valiant and but feigning to be in accomplished cavalier. love with Camilla._ +Don Antonio+, _Contracted to Porcia A soldier, haughty, and by proxy, before he saw of exact honour. her._ +Porcia+, _Sister to Don Henrique. Ingenious, constant, and severely virtuous._ +Camilla+, _Sister to Don Carlos. Susceptible of love, but cautious of her honour._ +Diego+, _Servant to Octavio, A great coward, and a bred a scholar. pleasant droll._ +Flora+, _Waiting-woman to Porcia. Witty, contriving, and faithful to her mistress._ +Ernesto+, } _Servants to Don +Sancho+, } Antonio._ +Silvio+, } +Geraldo+, } +Pedro+, } _Servants to Don +Bernardino+, } Henrique._ +Jago+, } _The Corregidor and Attendants._[39] _The Scene, Seville._ THE ADVENTURES OF FIVE HOURS.[40] ACT I. +Scene+--_Don Antonio's house._ _Enter +Don Henrique+._ +Don H.+ How happy are the men of easy phlegm, Born on the confines of indifference: Holding from nature the securest tenure, The peaceful empire o'er themselves; which we, Th' unhappy men of fire, without the aids Of mighty reason or almighty grace, Are all our lives contending for in vain, 'Tis evident, that solid happiness Is founded on the conquest of our passions; But since they are the favourites of sense, Self-love bribes reason still in their defence: Thus in a calm I reason; but when cross'd, The pilot quits the helm, and I am toss'd. _Enter +Silvio+._ +Sil.+ Sir, Don Carlos is without. +Don H.+ Wait on him in. _Enter +Don Carlos+._ +Don C.+ Cousin, methinks this day hath longer seem'd Than usual; since 'tis so far advanc'd Without our seeing one another. +Don H.+ If I had not been hinder'd by some business, I should, ere this, have seen you, t' have told you Some pleasing news I lately have receiv'd: You have so often borne with my distempers, 'Tis fit that once, at least, you should partake Of my good-humour. +Don C.+ What cause soever has produc'd this change, I heartily rejoice in the effect; And may it long continue. +Don H.+ I can inform you by experience now, How great a satisfaction 'tis to find A heart and head eas'd of a weighty care; For a gentleman of my warm temper, Jealous of the honour of his family, (As yet ne'er blemish'd) to be fairly freed From the tuition of an orphan sister, Rich, beautiful and young. +Don C.+ You know, Don Henrique, for these thirteen years, That I have been with the like province charg'd: An only sister, by our parents' will (When they were call'd from all[41] their cares below) Committed to my trust, much more expos'd To the great world than yours; and, sir, unless Nearness of blood deceive me, short of few In those perfections which invite the gallants: Yet, thanks to my temper, cousin, as well As to her virtue, I have seen her grow, Even from her childhood to her dangerous age, Without the least disturbance to my rest; And when with equal justice I reflect On the great modesty and circumspection Of lovely Porcia, I conclude that you Might well have slept as undisturb'd as I. +Don H.+ Sir, I complain not of my sister's conduct; But you know well, young maids are so expos'd To the invasion of audacious men, And to the malice of their envious sex, You must confess the confines of their fame Are never safe till guarded by a husband. 'Tis true, discreet relations ought to use Preventions of all kinds; but, dear Carlos, The blemish once receiv'd, no wash is good For stains of honour but th' offender's blood. +Don C.+ Y' are too severe a judge of points of honour. +Don H.+ And therefore, having not long since receiv'd The news that Don Antonio de Mendoza Is likely to be here this night from Flanders, To whom my sister, by th' intervention O' th' Marquis d'Olivera, is contracted, I will not close these eyes, till I have seen Her and my cares safe lodg'd within his arms. +Don C.+ I find your travels, cousin, have not cur'd you Of that innate severity to women, Urg'd justly as a national reproach To all of us abroad. The rest o' th' world Lament that tender sex amongst us here, Born only to be honourable prisoners; The greater quality, the closer kept: Which cruelty is reveng'd upon ourselves, Whilst, by immuring those whom most we love, We sing, and sigh only to iron gates. As cruel is that overcautious custom By proxy to contract parties unknown To one another; this is only fit For sovereign princes, whose high qualities Will not allow of previous interviews: They sacrifice their love to public good, Consulting interest of state and blood; A custom which as yet I never knew Us'd amongst persons of a lower rank Without a sequel of sad accidents. Sir, understand me right; I speak not this By way of prophecy: I am no stranger To Don Antonio's reputation, Which I believe so just, I no way doubt Your sister's being happy in him. +Don H.+ Don Carlos, let us quit this argument: I am now going to our noble friend And kinsman, the corregidor, to see If he'll oblige us with his company At my sister's wedding. Will you come along? +Don C.+ Most willingly, as soon as I have brought My sister hither, who has given this evening To her cousin Porcia. +Don H.+ I have business, cousin, by the way; I'll go before, and wait you i' th' Piazza. Your servant, sir. [_+Don Henrique+ waits on him to the door. Exit +Don Carlos+._ +Don H.+ This kinsman is my bosom friend; and yet, Of all men living, I must hide from him My deep resentments of his sister's scorn. That cruel maid, to wound me to the heart, Then close her ears against my just complaints! But though as yet I cannot heal my wound, I may by my revenge upon my rival Divert the pain; and I will drive it home. There's in revenge a balm which will appease The present grief, till[42] time cure the disease. [_Exit +Don Henrique+._ _Enter +Porcia+._ +Por.+ My heart is so oppress'd with fear and grief, That it must break, unless it finds relief; The man I love is forc'd to fly my sight, And like a Parthian[43] kills me in his flight: One, whom I never saw, I must embrace, Or else destroy the honour of my race. A brother's care, more cruel than his hate: O, how perplex'd are the intrigues of fate! _Enter +Don Carlos+_ and +Camilla+. +Don C.+ Cousin, I thought my sister's company Would not displease you, whilst I wait upon Your brother in a visit. +Por.+ Sir, you oblige me with a welcome favour. I rather should have styl'd it charity To bring a friend to her, whose cruel fate Has robb'd her of herself. [_Aside._ +Cam.+ Methinks, 'tis pity that a wall should make The houses two of friends so entirely one As you and I, and our two brothers, are. +Por.+ If it be true that lovers live much more There where they love than where they breathe, I'm sure No walls can sever us: we're still together. +Don C.+ Were I not much engag'd, I would not quit So sweet a conversation; but, sister, At my return I'll wait upon you home. +Por.+ For this night, cousin, pray let her be mine, I beg it of you both. +Don C.+ You may command; we are both yours. [_Exit +Don Carlos+._ [_+Porcia+ throws herself on +Camilla's+ neck._ Where, freely breathing out my grief, I might Some mitigation from thy pity find! But since there's no true pity without pain, Why should I ease by thy affliction gain? +Cam.+ Ah, Porcia! if compassion suffering be, And to condole be pain, my destiny Will full revenge in the same kind afford, Should I but my unequall'd griefs relate, And you but equally participate. +Por.+ If yours, as mine, from love-disasters rise, Our fates are more allied than families. +Cam.+ What to our sex and blooming age can prove An anguish worthy of our sighs but love? +Por.+ 'Tis true, Camilla, were your fate like mine, Hopeless to hold, unable to resign. +Cam.+ Let's tell our stories, then we soon shall see Which of us two excels in misery. +Por.+ Cousin, agreed. +Cam.+ Do you begin then. +Por.+ You know, Camilla, best how generously, How long, and how discreetly, Don Octavio Has serv'd me; and what trials of his faith And fervour I did make, ere I allow'd him The least hope to sustain his noble love. Cousin, all this you know: 'twas in your house We had our interviews, where you were pleas'd To suffer feign'd addresses to yourself, To cover from my watchful brother's eyes The passion which Octavio had for me. +Cam.+ My memory in this needs no refreshing. +Por.+ And how one evening (O that fatal hour!) My brother, passing by Don Carlos' house With his great friend and confidant, Don Pedro, Did chance to see th' unfortunate Octavio In your balcony entertaining me: Whom not believing there he took for you; My back being towards him, and both dress'd alike. Enraged with jealousy, this cruel man (To whom all moderation is unknown) Resolves to stamp all your neglects of him In's suppos'd rival, poor Octavio's, heart. They take their stand i' th' corner of our street; And after some little time Octavio, Free from suspicion as design of ill, Retires: they assault him, and in's own defence He kills Don Pedro, and is forc'd to fly. My brother cruelly pursues him still With such insatiate thirst after revenge, That nothing but Octavio's blood can quench: Covering his ill-nature and suspicion With the resentment of Don Pedro's death. +Cam.+ Is this the sum of your sad story, Porcia? Is this all? +Por.+ No, no, Camilla, 'tis the prologue only: The tragedy will follow. This brother, To whose impetuous will my deceas'd parents (May their souls rest in peace!) having condemn'd Me and my fortune, treats me like a slave: So far from suffering me to make my choice, That he denounces death if I refuse; And now, to frustrate all my hopes at once, Has very lately made me sign a contract To one in Flanders whom I never saw,[44] And is this night (they say) expected here. +Cam.+ Is such a rigour possible, dear Porcia? +Por.+ Was ever misery like mine, Camilla? Reduc'd to such extremes, past all relief? If I acquaint my brother with my love T' Octavio, the man whom he most hates, I must expect the worst effects of fury: If I endeavour to forget Octavio, Even that attempt renews his memory, And heightens my disquiet: if I refuse To marry, I am lost: if I obey, I cast Octavio and myself away. Two such extremes of ill no choice admit. Each seems the worst; on which rock shall I split? Since, if I marry, I cannot survive, And not to marry were to die alive. +Cam.+ Your story, I confess, is strangely moving; Yet if you could my fortune weigh with yours In scales of equal sensibility, You would not change your sufferings for mine. +Por.+ What can there be in Nature more afflicting, Than to be torn from th' object of my love, And forc'd t' embrace a man whom I must hate? +Cam.+ Have you not known that object of your love, And entertain'd the person you esteem? Have you not heard, and answer'd to his sighs? Has he not borne his part in all your cares? Do you not live and reign within his heart? +Por.+ I doubt no more his faith than my hard fate. +Cam.+ Tell me, dearest Porcia--if I love one, Whom I shall never see: suff'ring as much Without the means of e'er expressing it, As what I suffer is above expression; If all my sighs wander in fleeting air, And ne'er can reach his ears for whom they're form'd; If all my passion, all my killing cares, Must be for ever to their cause unknown; If their sad weight must sink me to my grave Without one groan, that he can ever hear, Or the least hope that I should e'er obtain Ease by's pity or cure by his disdain-- If this the state of my misfortune be (As heaven, that has decreed it, knows it is) Say, dearest Porcia, do you envy me? +Por.+ What overcruel laws of decency Have struck you dumb? Have you misplac'd your love? On such a party as you dare not own? +Cam.+ No, no, the cause is worthy of th' effect: For though I had no passion for this person, I were ungrateful if I should not give The first place in my heart to such high merit. +Por.+ If he had been so happy to deserve Your love, why are not you so just to let Him know it? +Cam.+ 'Tis impossible. Ah, that dismal word Clearly states the difference of our fortunes! You in your first adventure have been cross'd, But I, before I can set out, am lost. +Por.+ Pray, make me comprehend this mystery. +Cam.+ It is t' open my wounds afresh, dear Porcia; But you must be obey'd---- [_After a little pause._ His excellence the Conde d'Oniate, Being sent ambassador to th' emperor, We, having the honour to be near allied To's lady, went with him. My brother Was desir'd by her to make that journey: Whose tenderness for me not suffering him To let me stay behind, I was engag'd, And treated by th' ambassadress my cousin With more respect than I could ever merit. +Por.+ She is a lady fam'd for great civility. +Cam.+ We had not pass'd much time i' th' emperor's court, When my dear brother unexpectedly By urgent business was call'd back to Seville. In our return (passing too near a garrison Of th' enemy's) our convoy was surpris'd And routed by a party of their horse---- +Por.+ Camilla, you begin to raise my fears. +Cam.+ We, being pris'ners, were hurried straight away To th' enemy's quarters, where my ill fate Made me appear too pleasing to the eyes Of their commander, who at first approach Pretends to parley in a lover's style, Protesting that my face had chang'd our fortunes, And him my captive made: but finding soon, How little he advanc'd in his design By flattery and his feign'd submission, He shifts his person, calls me his prisoner, And swears my virgin treasure was his prize: But yet protests he had much rather owe it To my indulgence than his own good-fortune. And so, through storms and calms, the villain still Pursues his course to his accursed end; But finding me inflexible to his threats As well as fawnings, he resolves to use The last and uncontrolled argument Of impious men in power--force. +Por.+ Ah, poor Camilla! where was your dear[45] brother At a time of such distress? +Cam.+ My brother? he, alas! was long before Borne away from me in the first encounter; Where having certainly behav'd himself As well became his nation and his name, Remain'd sore wounded in another house. +Por.+ Prythee, make haste to free me from this fright. +Cam.+ The brute approaches, and by violence Endeavours to accomplish his intent: I invocate my guardian angel, and resist, But with unequal force, though rage supplied Those spirits which my fear had put to flight. At length, grown faint with crying out and striving, I spied a dagger by the villain's side, Which snatching boldly out, as my last refuge, With his own arms I wound the savage beast: He at the stroke unseiz'd me, and gave back. So guilt produces cowardice. Then I, The dagger pointing to my breast, cried out, Villain, keep off, for, if thou dost persist, I'll be myself both sacrifice and priest: I boldly now defy thy lust and hate; She, that dares choose to die, may brave her fate! +Por.+ O, how I love and envy thee at once! [_+Porcia+ starts to her, and kisses her._ Go on, brave maid. +Cam.+ Immediately the drums and trumpets sound, Pistols go off, and a great cry, _To arms, To arms!_ The lustful satyr flies. I stand, Fix'd with amazement to the marble floor, Holding my guardian dagger up aloft, As if the ravisher had threaten'd still. +Por.+ I fancy thee, Camilla, in that brave posture, Like a noble statue which I remember To have seen of the enraged Juno, When she had robb'd Jove of his thunderbolt. +Cam.+ Freed from this fright, my spirits flow'd so fast To the forsaken channels of my heart, That they, who by their orderly access Would have supported life, by throngs oppress: O'ercharg'd with joy, I fell into a swoon, And that, which happen'd during this interval,[46] Is not within the circle of my knowledge. +Por.+ Y' have rais'd me to a mighty expectation: Will the adventure answer it, Camilla? +Cam.+ At my return to life, op'ning my eyes, Think, dearest Porcia, how I was astonish'd To find there, kneeling by my side, a man Of a most noble form, who bowing to me: Madam (says he) y' are welcome to the world: Pardon, I pray, the boldness of a stranger, Who humbly sues t' you to continue in it: Or, if you needs will leave us, stay at least Until I have reveng'd your wrongs, and then I'll wait upon you to the other world; For, you withdrawn, this will a desert seem, And life a torment. +Por.+ High gallantry, cousin, for the first address! +Cam.+ 'Twas so surprising, that my confusion Check'd my reply; but I suppose my looks Did speak the grateful language of my heart; For I perceiv'd an air of joy enlighten His manly face; but, O, how soon 'twas clouded By fresh alarms! we heard the soldiers cry, Where's Antonio? the enemy is rallied, And coming on to give a second charge! He started up, and with a mien that mark'd The conflict 'twixt his honour and his love, Madam (says he) the soul was never yet With such convulsion from the body torn, As I from you; but it must ne'er be said That Don Antonio de Mendoza Follows those in dangers whom he ought to lead. Thus the vanquish'd conqueror disappear'd, Leaving that image stamp'd upon my heart To which I all the joys must sacrifice Of the poor remnant of my wretched life; If properly to live I may be said, When all my hopes of seeing him are dead. [_She puts her handkerchief to her eyes._ +Por.+ Though you have kept this part of your adventure Still from me-- +Cam.+ And from everybody living. +Por.+ I have observ'd the signs of smother'd grief: I've often seen those lovely eyes much swoll'n. Those are true tears, Camilla, which are stol'n. But what said you was his name, Camilla? +Cam.+ Antonio de Mendoza. +Por.+ O heavens! Antonio de Mendoza! _Enter +Don Henrique+._ +Don H.+ I'm pleased to find you speaking of your husband. +Cam.+ What's that I hear? her husband! [_Aside._ +Don H.+ Have you the letter ready I desir'd you To write to him? I'll send a servant with it To meet him on the way; 'twill show respect. +Por.+ You know my obedience, brother. +Don H.+ 'Tis well, sister. _Enter +Silvio+._ +Sil.+ Sir, here's a servant of Don Antonio Newly alighted at the gate: he's come Post from his master, charg'd with letters for you. +Don H.+ I could not have receiv'd more welcome news. Go, bring him in. Sister, you may withdraw. [_Exeunt +Porcia+ and +Camilla+._ _Enter +Ernesto+ and +Silvio+._ +Ern.+ Sir, Don Antonio kisses your hands, And sends me to present this letter to you. [_He gives a letter to +Don Henrique+. +Don Henrique+ opens it, and, having read it to himself, says_-- +Don H.+ I'm glad to find by's letter he's in health; Yet methinks, friend, he writes but doubtfully Of's being here this night, as I expected. +Ern.+ His letter, I suppose, sir, speaks his purpose. +Don H.+ I'll answer't, and despatch you presently: In the meanwhile, go: make him welcome, Silvio. [_Exeunt +Silvio+ and +Ernesto+._ I would to heaven he were arriv'd; I grow Each minute more impatient. As bodies Near the centre move with more violence, So when we approach the ends of our designs, Our expectations are the more intense, And our fears greater of all cross-events. [_Exit +Don Henrique+._ _Enter +Silvio+, +Ernesto+, +Geraldo+, +Pedro+, +Bernardino+, +Jago+, with some cups of chocolate._ +Sil.+ Methinks, camerade, a sup of chocolate Is not amiss after a tedious journey-- Your master's health, sir. [_He drinks._ +Ern.+ I'll do you reason, sir.[47] +Sil.+ Pray, how long is't, brother, since you left Spain? +Ern.+ 'Tis now five years and upwards since I went From Seville with my master into Flanders, The king's fencing-school, where all his subjects Given to fighting are taught the use of arms, And notably kept in breath. +Sil.+ Your master, I am sure, has got the fame To be a per'lous man in that rough trade. +Ern.+ He's a brave soldier, envy must confess it. +Ped.+ It seems so, faith, since merely by the force Of his great reputation he can take Our bright young mistress in without a siege. +Ern.+ If I mistake not, she will be reveng'd On him ere long, and take him too by th' force Of her rare wit and beauty. +Ped.+ Sh' has a fair Portion, sir, of both, I dare assure you. +Sil.+ But prythee, brother, instruct us a little; Tell us, what kind of country is this Holland, That's so much talk'd of, and so much fought for? +Ern.+ Why, friend, 'tis a huge ship at anchor, fraught With a sort of creatures made up of turf And butter. +Ped.+ Pray, sir, what do they drink in that country? 'Tis said, there's neither fountains there Nor vines. +Ern.+ This is the butler, sure, by his apt question. [_Aside._ Friend, they drink there a certain muddy liquor, Made of that grain with which you feed your mules. +Ped.+ What, barley? can that juice quench their thirst? +Ern.+ You'd scarce believe it could, did you but see How oft they drink. +Ped.+ But methinks that should make them drunk, camerade? +Ern.+ Indeed most strangers are of that opinion; But they themselves believe it not, because They are so often. +Ger.+ A nation, sure, of walking tuns, the world Has not the like. +Ern.+ Pardon me, friend, there is but a great ditch Betwixt them and such another nation; If these good fellows would but join, and drink That dry, i' faith they might shake hands. +Ger.+ Prythee, friend, can these Dutch Borachios[48] fight? +Ern.+ They can do even as well, for they can pay Those that can fight. +Sil.+ But where, I pray, sir, do they get their money? +Ern.+ O sir, they have a thriving mystery; They cheat their neighbouring princes of their trade, And then they buy their subjects for their soldiers. +Sil.+ Methinks our armies should beat these butter-boxes. Out of the world. +Ern.+ Trust me, brother, they'll sooner beat our armies Out of their country: why, ready money, friend, Will do much more in camps, as well as courts, Than a ready wit, I dare assure you. +Ger.+ Methinks, camerade, our king should have more money Than these Dutch swabbers; he's master o' th' Indies, Where money grows. +Ern.+ But they have herrings which, I assure you, Are worth our master's mines. +Ger.+ Herrings! why, what a devil, do they grow In their country? +Ern.+ No, faith, they fish 'em on the English coast, And fetch their salt from France; then they pickle 'em, And sell 'em all o'er the world. +Ger.+ 'Slife, these rascals live by cookery! +Ern.+ This is the coddled cook, I've found him out. [_Aside._ +Ber.+ What kind of beds, sir, have they i' that country? +Ern.+ This, I dare swear, 's the groom o' th' chamber. [_Aside._ Sir, they have certain niches in their walls,[49] Where they climb up o' nights; and there they stew In their own grease till morning. +Jago.+ Pray, sir, give me leave to ask you one question: What manner of women have they in that country? +Ern.+ The gentleman-usher, upon my life! [_Aside._ Pray excuse me, sir: we gentlemen-soldiers Value ourselves upon our civility To that soft sex; and in good faith they are The softest of that sex I ever met with. +Jago.+ Does any of our Spaniards ever marry With'em? +Ern.+ Yes, some lean families, that have a mind To lard their progeny. +Sil.+ What, a' God's name, could come into the heads Of this people to make them rebel? +Ern.+ Why, religion; that came into their heads A' God's name. +Ger.+ But what a devil made the noblemen Rebel? they never mind religion. +Ern.+ Why, that which made the devil himself rebel-- Ambition. +Sil.+ This is a pleasant fellow. [_Aside._ I find you gentlemen-soldiers want no wit. +Ern.+ When we're well paid, sir, but that's so seldom, I find that gentleman wants wit that is A soldier. Your company's very good, But I have business which requires despatch. +Ped.+ Will you not mend your draught before you go? +Ern.+ I thank you, sir, I have done very well. +All.+ Your servant, your servant, &c. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Camilla+, +Porcia+, +Flora+._ +Por.+ Was e'er disaster like to mine, Camilla? +Cam.+ Was e'er misfortune, Porcia, like to mine? +Por.+ That I must never see Octavio more? +Cam.+ That I again must Don Antonio see, Yet never see him mine? +Por.+ I, to be married to the man I hate! +Cam.+ And I, to have the man I love torn from me! +Por.+ I am, by robbing of my friend, undone! +Cam.+ I, for not hind'ring of the theft, am lost! +Por.+ Ye powers, who these entangled fortunes give, Instruct us how to die or[50] I how to live. [_She weeps._ +Cam.+ Cousin, when we should act, then to complain Is childishly to beat the air in vain. These descants on our griefs only perplex; Let's seek the remedy. You know, our sex This honour bears from men, in exigents Of love never to want expedients. +Por.+ You have awaken'd me, give me your veil: [_+Porcia+ takes off +Camilla's+ veil, and puts it on herself._ Quickly, dear cousin, quickly; and you, Flora, Run presently, and see whether my brother Be settled to despatch Antonio's man. [_Exit +Flora+._ +Cam.+ What mean you, Porcia? +Por.+ If once my brother be set down to write, I may securely reckon one hour mine; For he is so extravagantly jealous, That he distrusts the sense of his own words, And will weigh a subscription to a scruple, Lest he should wrong his family by his style: Therefore, I'll serve myself of[51] this occasion To see Octavio, and to let him know That all our hopes are ready to expire, Unless he finds some prompt expedient For our relief. +Cam.+ Pray, how and where d' you hope to speak with him? +Por.+ At his own house, where he lies yet conceal'd: 'Tis not far off, and I will venture thither. +Cam.+ D' you know the way? +Por.+ Not very well; but Flora's a good guide. _Enter +Flora+ hastily._ +Flo.+ O madam! he's coming already. +Por.+ Ah, spiteful destiny! Come, let's retire Into my chamber, cousin. [_Exeunt +Porcia+ and +Camilla+._ _Enter +Don Henrique+ and +Ernesto+._ +Don H.+ If you desire to see her, friend, you may. +Ern.+ I should be glad to acquaint my master, sir, That I have had the honour to see his bride. +Don H.+ Where's your lady, Flora? +Flo.+ She's in her chamber, sir. +Don H.+ Tell her, Antonio's man attends her here, To do his duty to her ere he goes. [_Exit +Flora+._ Stay here: you'll find her with a kinswoman, In her home dress without a veil; but you Are privileg'd by your relation for this access: I'll go despatch my letter. [_Exit +Henrique+._ _Enter +Camilla+, +Porcia+, and +Flora+. +Ernesto+ addresses himself to +Camilla+, seeing her without a veil._ +Ern.+ Madam, I have been bold to beg the honour Of seeing your ladyship, to make myself More welcome to my lord at my return. +Por.+ A rare mistake! further it, dear Camilla! Who knows what good this error may produce? [_Aside._ +Cam.+ Friend, in what state left you your lord and mine? +Ern.+ As happy as the hopes of being yours Could make him, madam. +Cam.+ I would the master were as easily deceiv'd. [_Aside._ I pray present my humble service to him; And let him know that I am very glad He has pass'd his journey so successfully-- Give him the letter, Flora.[52] Farewell, friend. [_Exeunt +Camilla+, +Porcia+, and +Flora+._ +Ern.+ Now, by my life, she is a lovely lady; My master will be ravish'd with her form. I hope this blind bargain, made by proxy, May prove as happy a marriage as those Made after th' old fashion, chiefly for love, And that this unseen beauty may have charms To bring him back to his right wits again From his wild ravings on an unknown dame, Whom, as he fancies (once upon a time) He recover'd from a trance, that's to say From a sound sleep, which makes him dream e'er since. I'll hasten to him with this pleasing news. [_Exit +Ernesto+._ +Cam.+ My melancholy could hardly hinder me From laughing at the formal fool's mistake. But, tell me, did not I present your person With rare assurance? The way for both to thrive Is to make me your representative. +Por.+ Most willingly; and I am confident, When you your charms shall to his heart apply, You all your rivals safely may defy. +Cam.+ I wish I could be vain enough to hope it. But, cousin, my despairs are so extreme, I can't be flatter'd, though but in a dream. +Flo.+ Madam, do we go, or what do you resolve on? +Por.+ I must resolve, but know not what to choose. +Cam.+ Cousin, take heed, I am afraid you venture Too much: your brother cannot tarry long, And if at his return he finds you missing---- +Por.+ Y' have reason; th' opportunity is lost. What is't o'clock, Flora? +Flo.+ I think, near seven, for the clock struck six Just as Camilla enter'd the chamber. +Por.+ Quick then, Flora, fetch your veil; you shall carry My tablets to Octavio; there he'll find The hour and place where I would have him meet. [_Exit +Flora+._ +Cam.+ 'Tis well resolv'd; but where do you design Your meeting. +Por.+ In the remotest part of all the garden, Which answers, as you know, to my apartment; And Flora has the key of the back-door. +Cam.+ As the case stands, you choose the fittest place. [_+Flora+ returns veiled._ +Por.+ Cousin, I beg your patience whilst I write. [_+Porcia+ writes in her tablets._ +Cam.+ You, Mistress Flora, by this accident May chance to see your faithful lover Diego. +Flo.+ He is a faithful lover of himself--[53] Without a rival, madam. +Cam.+ Damsel, your words and thoughts hardly agree; For could we see his image in your heart, 'Twould be a fairer far than e'er his glass Reflected. +Flo.+ Madam, I am not yet so very old, That I should doat. +Cam.+ Nor yet so very young but you may love: Dotage and love are cousin-germans, Flora. +Flo.+ Yes, when we love and are not lov'd again; [_Smiling._ For else I think they're not so near akin. +Cam.+ I have touch'd a nettle, and stung myself. [_Aside._ +Por.+ Make all the haste you can, pray, Flora. +Flo.+ Madam, I'll fly. Should I not play my part, I were to blame, Since all my fortune's betted on her game. [_Aside._ Madam, has Octavio the other key Belonging to the tablets? +Por.+ Yes, yes; I pray, make haste. [_Exit +Flora+._ +Cam.+ Cousin, pray, call for Mirabel, and let her Divert us with a song. +Por.+ Who waits there? Page, bid Mirabel come in, and Floridor With his lute, and send in somebody with chairs. +Cam.+ Pray, cousin, let her sing her newest air. +Por.+ What you please. +Cam.+ Tell me, prythee, whose composition was it? +Por.+ Guess, and I'll tell you true. [_They bring in chairs._ +Cam.+ Octavio's? +Por.+ Y' are i' th' right. _Enter +Mirabel+ and +Floridor+._ +Por.+ Mirabel, sing "Mistaken Kindness." +The Song.+[54] _Can Luciamira so mistake, To persuade me to fly? 'Tis cruel-kind for my own sake To counsel me to die; Like those faint souls, who cheat themselves of breath, And die for fear of death._ _Since love's the principle of life, And you the object lov'd, Let's, Luciamira, end this strife, I cease to be remov'd. We know not what they do are gone from hence, But here we love by sense._ _If the Platonics, who would prove Souls without bodies love, Had, with respect, well understood, The passions i' the blood, Th' had suffer'd bodies to have had their part And seated love i' the heart._ [_Exeunt +Mirabel+ and +Floridor+._ +Por.+ What discord there's in music, when the heart, Untun'd by trouble, cannot bear a part! +Cam.+ In vain we seek content in outward things; 'Tis only from within where quiet springs. [_Exeunt._ FOOTNOTES: [39] In this list of characters three very unimportant personages, Mirabel, Floridor, and a Page, are omitted.--_Collier._ [40] This play, in the third edition from which it is here printed, received some additions and improvements. The first performance of it was at court; and on its appearance on the stage at the Duke's Theatre it met with great applause, and was acted thirteen nights successively. Echard, in the preface to his translation of Terence, gives it this general character, that it "is one of the pleasantest stories that ever appeared upon our stage, and has as much variety of plots and intrigues, without anything being precipitated, improper or unnatural, as to the main action." In the year 1767, Mr Hull made some alterations in it, with which it was acted at Covent Garden Theatre about nine nights, under the title of "The Perplexities." To the second edition were prefixed complimentary verses by James Long, J. Evelyn, A. Cowley Jasper Nedham, M.D., Lod. Carlile, Chr. Wase, William Joyner, and one copy signed Melpomene. In Sir Wm. Davenant's Works, p. 339, is a prologue written by him, addressed to the Lord Chancellor, on the acting of this play at the Inner Temple. [41] Till now the measure was spoiled by the omission of the word _all_. The four editions read the line as it now stands. The play has been hitherto very carelessly printed, and a few of the errors are pointed out in the notes.--_Collier._ [But it must be added that even Mr Collier left the text and (more particularly) the punctuation in so corrupt a state, that many passages were unintelligible.] [42] [Former edits., _and_.] [43] Prior has adopted this image-- "So when the Parthian turn'd his steed, And from the hostile camp withdrew, He backward sent the fatal reed, Secure of conquest as he flew." --Poems, i. 40, edit. 1778. [44] This speech is very much altered from the first and second editions, where it stands that Don Henrique has already married Porcia "By proxy To one in Flanders." --_Collier._ [45] This word was omitted by Reed and Dodsley.--_Collier._ [46] The author has not been very strict in the observance of his metre in any part of the play, and in this respect the changes he made in the third edition were sometimes injurious. Thus in the two earlier copies this line, which would have read very well if _in_ had been substituted for _during_, is given as follows-- "And what was done in this parenthesis." It was a point gained, however, to get rid of the figure.--_Collier._ [47] [I'll pledge you. See Nares, edit. 1859, p. 216.] [48] [Literally a bottle. See Halliwell in _v._] [49] [Cupboard beds, similar to those still used throughout Holland among the humbler classes.] [50] [Former edits., _and_.] [51] [Former edits., _on_.] [52] This is hardly intelligible, as it stands here and in the third edition. In the two earlier copies, Porcia says to Flora on entering-- "If thou lov'st me, get him away quickly Before my brother come, and give him this. [_She gives +Flora+ a letter_." --_Collier._ [There does not appear to be any obscurity here. In a subsequent scene, Ernesto delivers the letter handed to him by Flora from Camilla, whom he mistakes for Porcia.] [53] [_Of himself_ seems to be used here in the sense of by himself, _per se_, standing alone.] [54] The song, and its introduction, were new in the copy of 1671.--_Collier._ ACT II. +Scene.+--_The city of Seville._ _Enter +Don Antonio+ and +Sancho+, in riding-clothes._ +San.+ Sir, we are arriv'd in very good time. +Don A.+ I did not think it would have been so soon By an hour at least; but lovers ride apace. Why smile you, Sancho? +San.+ Faith, at the novelty of your amours, To fall in love with one you hardly saw, And marry one you never saw: 'tis pretty; But we poor mortals have another method. +Don A.+ Y' are very pleasant, friend; but is not this The market-place, behind the Jacobins? +San.+ Yes, sir. +Don A.+ 'Tis here I charg'd Ernesto to expect me. +San.+ Since you are here, sir, earlier than you thought, Why might you not go shift you at the post-house, And be return'd before Ernesto come? Howe'er, 'tis better that he wait for you, Than you for him, in the open street. +Don A.+ 'Tis well thought on; come, let's go then. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Don Octavio+ and +Diego+._ +Don O.+ Come, Diego, 'tis now time to quit our dens, And to begin our chase. +Diego.+ Of what, sir? bats or owls, now the sun's set? Call you this making of love? why, methinks, 'Tis more like making of war: marching all night In arms, as if we design'd to beat up The enemy's quarters. +Don O.+ Why, would not you venture as much for Flora? +Diego.+ No, in good faith, sir; I shall venture enough, If e'er I marry her: I'll run no hazard By my good-will beforehand. +Don O.+ That's from your fear, not prudence, Diego. +Diego.+ Sir, you may call it what you please; but I Dare boldly say, there lives not in the world A more valiant man than I, whilst danger Keeps its distance; but when saucily It presses on, then, I confess, 'tis true, I have a certain tenderness for life, Which checks my ardour, and inclines my prudence Timely to withdraw. +Don O.+ Your style is wondrous civil to yourself; How you soften that harsh word call'd cowardice. But the danger is not always evident, When you are pleas'd, my friend, to run away. +Diego.+ It may be so, sir--not to vulgar eyes; But I have such a piercing sight, that I Discover perils out of others' ken; Which they, not seeing soon enough to shun, Are forc'd t' encounter; and then their struggling Is by th' unwary world taken for courage. +Don O.+ Who's truly valiant will be always so. +Diego.+ Who's wisely valiant will avoid the foe. +Don O.+ You have more light, Diego, I see, than heat; But I'll allow your wit and honesty To come to composition for your want Of courage. +Diego.+ I have courage enough for the profession To which my parents did design me. +Don O.+ Why, what was that? +Diego.+ An advocate. I could have acted choler In my client's sight, and, when his back was turn'd, Have hugg'd the lawyer of the adverse party; And, if I mistake not, they sell their breath Much dearer than you soldiers do your blood. 'Tis true, you get honour, a fine light food For delicate complexions; but I have Known some captains of plain stomachs starve upon't. +Don O.+ The varlet's i' the right. [_Aside._] How came't about You were not of this thriving trade? +Diego.+ After I had spent seven years at Salamanca, My father, a rich merchant of this city, Was utterly undone by that damn'd Englishman, With whom we fright our children. +Don O.+ Who, Captain Drako? Was he a pirate? +Diego.+ He had been so on this side of the line. +Don O.+ 'Tis strange that war and peace should have degrees Of latitude: one would have thought they should Have been the same all o'er the world. But what's this To my amours? I trifle away my time. Was ever lover's fate so rude as mine? Condemn'd to darkness, forc'd to hide my head, As well as love; and, to spite me the more, Fortune has contradictions reconcil'd: I am at once a pris'ner and exil'd. _Enter +Don Antonio+ and +Sancho+._ +Don A.+ Methinks Ernesto should not tarry long, If not already come. Sancho, how call you The street there just before us, where you see Yon gentleman with his cloak o'er his face? I have lost all my measures of this town. +Sancho.+ I am as much to seek as you, sir. +Don A.+ Let us go to him, Sancho, and inquire: He has a notable good mien: I ne'er Saw an air more like [to] Octavio's. +Don O.+ Unless my eyes do very much deceive me, That's Don Antonio; if it be he, Diego, There is no danger in his knowing us: He was my comrade when I first bore arms. [_+Don Octavio+ lets fall his cloak from before his face._ Tis he. +Don A.+ You injure me, Octavio, to be so long A-knowing one who's so entirely yours. [_They embrace._ +Don O.+ Your presence in this place, noble Antonio, Was so unexpected, I hardly durst Believe my eyes. When came you to this town? +Don A.+ I am just now arrived. +Don O.+ I joy to see you here, but should have thought It likelier to have heard of you at court, Pursuing there the recompenses due To your great merit. +Don A.+ That is no place for men of morality: I have been taught, Octavio, to deserve, But not to seek, reward, that does profane The dignity of virtue. If princes, For their own interests, will not advance Deserving subjects, they must raise themselves By a brave contempt of fortune. +Don O.+ Rig'rous virtue! which makes us to deserve, Yet suffer the neglect of those we serve. +Don A.+ Virtue to interest has no regard: Nor is it virtue, if w' expect reward. +Don A.+ If for their service kings our virtues press, Is no pay due to valour and success? +Don O.+ When we gave up our persons to their will, We gave with those our valour, fortune, skill. +Don O.+ But this condition tacitly was meant, Kings should adjust reward and punishment. +Don A.+ Kings are the only judges of deserts, And our tribunal's seated in their hearts. +Don O.+ But if they judge and act amiss, what then? +Don A.+ They must account to th' powers above, not men.[55] +Don O.+ Then we must suffer? +Don A.+ Yes; if we reject Their power as too great, we must erect A greater to control them; and thus we, Instead of shrinking, swell the tyranny. +Don O.+ W' obey for fear, then? +Don A.+ True: 'tis only above, Where pow'r is justice, and obedience love. +Don O.+ I'm glad to find in you the seeds yet left Of steady virtue; may they bring forth fruit, Fit to illustrate and instruct the age. Let me once more embrace you: welcome, brave man, [_Embraces +Don Antonio+._ Both the delight and honour of your friends. +Don A.+ You will give me leave, sir, to distinguish Betwixt your judgment and civility. +Don O.+ He has not liv'd i' th' reach of public fame, Who is a stranger to your character. This is my house; be pleas'd, sir, to go in, And make it yours, though truly at present I am but in an ill condition To receive the honour of such a guest, Having, by an unlucky accident, Been forc'd of late to keep myself conceal'd. +Don A.+ I humbly thank you, sir, but cannot yet Receive your favour; for I must stay here, Expecting the return of one I sent Before me to my brother-in-law's. +Don O.+ Have you a brother-in-law in Seville? You surprise me much. +Don A.+ It is most true, Octavio, I come hither A married man, as much as friends can make me. +Don O.+ Since it imports you not to miss your servant, Let us stay here without until he comes, And then go in and rest yourself awhile. But how go our affairs in Flanders? +Don A.+ I left our armies in a better state Than formerly. +Don O.+ And your governor, the Duke of Alva, I suppose, in great[er] reputation? +Don A.+ The honour of our country and the terror Of others: Fortune consulted Reason When she bestow'd such favours upon him. +Don O.+ And yet 'tis said, he loses ground at court. +Don A.+ 'Tis possible: under a jealous prince A great's as prejudicial as an evil fame. +Don O.+ They say he's cruel, even to barbarity. +Don A.+ 'Tis mercy, that which they call cruelty. In a civil war, in fertile provinces (And the sun sees not richer than are these), The soldier, especially the auxiliary, Whose trade it is to fight for salary, Is brib'd by gain the rebels' lives to spare, That mutual quarter may prolong the war; Till this slow fever has consum'd their force, And then they'll fall to our rival France, of course. War made in earnest maketh war to cease, And vigorous prosecution hastens peace. +Don O.+ Y' have made me comprehend his conduct: he's sure As great a politician as a soldier. +Don A.+ Loyalty's his centre, his circumf'rence, glory; And t' after ages he'll show great in story. +Don O.+ And is our good friend, the Marquis d'Olivera, In high esteem? +Don A.+ The boast of [all] our army: h' has exceeded Hope, and made flattery impossible. +Don O.+ They say he did wonders at the siege of Mons.[56] +Don A.+ You mean, as I suppose, at the pursuit O' th' German army, led by the Prince of Orange? Indeed his courage and his conduct there Were very signal. +Don O.+ You'll much oblige me if, whilst you expect Your servant here, I might learn from yourself Some few particulars of your own actions; Fame speaks loudly of them, but not distinctly. +Don A.+ Fame, like water, bears up the lighter things, And lets the weighty sink. I do not use To speak in the first person; but if you needs Will have a story to fill up the time, I'll tell you an adventure of my own, Where you'll find love so intermix'd with arms, That, I am confident, 'twill raise your wonder, How, being prepossess'd with such a passion, I should, upon prudential motives only, Be engag'd, as now you find me, to marry A lady whom I never saw. +Don O.+ The person and the subject, sir, both challenge My best attention. +Don A.+ [_After a little pause._] The following evening to that glorious day, Wherein the Duke of Alva gain'd such fame Against the cautelous Nassau, some horse Were sent from the army under my command. To cover the Limbourg frontiers, much expos'd To th' enemy's inroads. My troops scarce lodg'd, I receiv'd intelligence that a party Of th' enemy, about two hundred horse, Were newly come t' a village three leagues off, Intending there to lodge. Immediately We sounded to horse, and march'd[57] to their surprise So lustily,[58] that by the break of day Their quarters were on fire. +Don O.+ You had been taught, sir, by your wise general, That diligence in execution is (Even above fortune) mistress of success. +Don A.+ They made but faint resistance: some were slain, Some perish'd in the fire, others escap'd, Giving the alarm in quarters more remote To their companions drown'd in sleep and wine Who, at the outcry and the noise of trumpets, Methinks I fancy starting from their beds, As pale and wan, as from their dormitories Those the last trump shall rouse: diff'ring in this, That those awake to live, but these to die. +Don O.+ O, how unsafe it is to be secure! +Don A.+ Finding no more resistance, I made haste To a lofty structure which, as I conceiv'd, Was the likeliest quarter for their officer; Led thither by desire to rescue both-- Him from the soldier's rage, that from the fire. +Don O.+ A care most worthy of a gallant leader. +Don A.+ But think, Octavio, how I was surpris'd When, entering a pavilion i' th' garden, I found a woman of a matchless form, Stretch'd all along upon the marble floor. +Don O.+[59] I easily can divine how such a heart, As harbours in the brave Antonio's breast, May suffer at so sad a spectacle. +Don A.+ At the first sight I did believe her dead; Yet in that state so awful she appear'd, That I approach'd her with as much respect As if the soul had animated still That body which, though dead, scarce mortal seem'd. But as, the sun from our horizon gone, His beams do leave a tincture on the skies, Which shows it was not long since he withdrew: So in her lovely face there still appear'd Some scatter'd streaks of those vermilion beams, Which us'd t' irradiate that bright firmament. Thus did I find that distress'd miracle, Able to wound a heart as if alive, Uncapable to cure it as if dead. +Don O.+ I no more doubt your pity than your wonder. +Don A.+ My admiration did suspend my aid, Till passion join'd to pity made me bold. I kneel'd, and took her in my arms, then bow'd Her body gently forward; at which instant A sigh stole from her. O the ravishing sound! Which being a symptom of remaining life Made me forget that 'twas a sign of grief. At length she faintly opens her bright eyes: So breaks the day, and so do all the creatures Rejoice, as I did, at the new-born light: But as the Indians, who adore the sun, Are scorch'd by's beam, ere half his race be run, So I, who did adore her rising eyes, Found myself wounded by those deities. +Don O.+ I am big with expectation; pray Deliver me. +Don A.+ From her fair hand a bloody poniard fell, Which she held fast during her trance, as if Sh' had only needed arms whilst she did sleep, And trusted to her eyes when she did wake. What I said to her, being a production Of mere ecstasy, I remember not. She made me no reply; yet I discern'd, In a serener air of her pale face, Some lines of satisfaction mix'd with fear. +Don O.+ Such looks in silence have an eloquence. But pray go on. +Don A.+ Rais'd from the ground, and to herself return'd, I stepp'd a fitting distance back, as well To gaze upon that lovely apparition, As to express respect; when at that instant The trumpets sound a charge; my soldiers cry, Where is our leader? Where's Antonio? My love awhile disputed with my honour, But that, being the longer-settled power, O'ercame; I join'd my troops, left in reserve, As they were ready to receive a charge From divers squadrons of fresh horse who, being Quarter'd in neighbouring villages, had taken Hotly th' alarm, and came, though then too late, In succour of their friends. Honour and love Had so inflam'd my heart, that I advanc'd Beyond the rules of conduct, and receiv'd So many wounds, that I with faintness fell. +Don O.+ How can this story end? +Don A.+ My soldiers beat the enemy, and brought me off, Where surgeons quickly cur'd my outward wounds; But the remembrance of that heroine My inward hurts kept bleeding still afresh; Till, by the business of the war constrain'd T' attend my charge i' th' army, my despair Of ever seeing her again conspiring With the strong persuasions of Olivera, I was at length even forc'd to an engagement Of marriage with a lady of this city, Rich, noble, and, as they say, beautiful. And so you have me here, come to consummate Those nuptial rites to which my interest, And the importunity of trusty friends, O'errule my judgment, though against my heart. +Don O.+ A wonderful adventure! but pray, sir, May I not take the liberty to ask you, Who may this noble lady be, to whom The fates have destin'd so much happiness? +Don A.+ I have no reserves for you, Octavio, 'Tis the sister of---- _Enter +Ernesto+, and +Don Octavio+ retires hastily, and covers his face with his cloak._ +Don A.+ [_Nodding to +Octavio+._] It is my servant, sir. +Don O.+ Step to Antonio, Diego, and desire him To send him off. [_+Diego+ goes to +Antonio+ and whispers._ +Don A.+ I will immediately. Well, Ernesto, What good news? speak freely. +Ern.+ Sir, as you charg'd me, I told your brother-in-law I thought you hardly could be there this night. He kisses your hands, and bad me tell you, That he expects your coming with impatience. This letter's from Don Henrique, th' other's from Your beauteous bride, the most accomplish'd person I ever saw: my being of your train Gave me the privilege of a domestic, To see her in her chamber-dress without A veil, either to cover faults or hide Perfections. +Don A.+ Tell me truly, is she so very handsome? +Ern.+ Handsomer far, in my opinion, sir, Than all those Brussels beauties, which you call The finish'd pieces: but I say no more; Let your own eyes inform you; here's a key Of the apartment that's made ready for you; A lower quarter, very nobly furnish'd, That opens on St Vincent's Street. +Don A.+ Give it me, and go to the post-house, And take care that my things be brought from, thence. [_Exit +Ernesto+._ Octavio, will you go along with me, And be a witness of my first address? +Don O.+ Sir, you choose in me an ill companion Of lovers' interviews or nuptial joys: One whose misfortunes to such sad extremes Are heighten'd, that the very mentioning Of happy hours serves only to embitter The memory of my lost joys. +Don A.+ So very deep a sense of your misfortunes Holds no proportion with Octavio's mind. _+Enter+ +Flora+ in haste._ +Flo.+ Where's your master, Diego? +Diego.+ There's some ill towards, when this bird appears. [_Aside._ Do you not see him? y' have liv'd too long a maid. +Flo.+ Sir, I have something to say t' you in private, That requires haste. +Don O.+ What new accident brings you hither, Flora? +Flo.+ These tablets will inform you, sir. [_+Flora+ retires._ +Diego.+ Will you not stay for an answer, damsel? +Flo.+ 'Tis a command, not a question, Diego. +Diego.+ Short and sweet, Flora. +Don O.+ Good Flora, stay a minute. I much fear It is some new misfortune. +Diego.+ Nay, sir, you may be sure 'tis some disaster, Else it would ne'er have come so easily, And so unsought for. +Don O.+ Will you allow me for a moment, sir, To step into my house, and read a letter? [_Bowing to +Antonio+._ +Don A.+ I'll wait upon you in, and stay your leisure. [_Exeunt all but +Diego+._ +Diego.+ These little black books do more devils raise Than all the figures of the conjurors. This is some missive from the heroine: If it ends not in fighting, I'll be hang'd; It is the method of their dear romances, And persons of their rank make love by book. Curse o'[60] th' inventor of that damn'd device Of painting words, and speaking to our eyes! Had I a hundred daughters, by this light, Not one of 'em should ever read or write. _Enter +Flora,+ and seems to go away in haste._ Here she comes again. 'Twas a quick despatch. A word, Flora, or a kind glance at least; What, grown cruel? +Flo.+ Diego, nobody w' you?[61] This is no time for fooling, friend. +Diego.+ Nay, if you be so serious, fare you well. But, now I think on't better, I'll do th' honours Of our street, and bring you to the end on't. +Flo.+ I shall be well help'd up with such a squire. If some wandering knight should chance to assault you, To bear away your damsel, what would you do? +Diego.+ I'd use no other weapon but a torch: I'd put aside your veil, show him your face, That, I suppose, would guard us both. +Flo.+ Why, d' you think 'twould fright him, Diego? +Diego.+ O no, 'twould charm him, Flora. +Flo.+ Well, such as 'tis, I'll venture it without Engaging your known valour: [so,] good night. [_Exit +Flora+._ _Enter +Don Octavio+ and +Don Antonio+._ +Don O.+ What may this be? I swear I cannot guess; The warning's short; but she must be obeyed. The hour draws near. I must go seek a friend, Her words seem to imply need of a second: 'Twere barbarous to engage Antonio, Newly arriv'd, and come on such an errand. [_Aside._ Noble Antonio, my confusion's great, [_Addressing +Antonio+._ To tell you thus abruptly I must leave you; Th' occasion's indispensable. +Don A.+ I must not quit you, sir, I know too well The laws of honour to desert you now: When I perceive my friend in such disorder, And[62] all the marks that he is call'd to danger, To leave him then---- +Don O.+ It is a summons from a lady, sir, Whom I have lov'd with passion and success, To meet her in her garden presently. All is propitious on her part and mine; But she's so guarded by a tyrant brother, So naturally jealous, and so incens'd By a late accident which I shall tell you, That to assure you there would be no danger In this adventure, were (sir) to abuse you: But for that very reason I am bound Not to consent you should embark yourself In a business so directly opposite To the occasion which has brought you hither. +Don A.+ I like the omen: at my first arrival To have the honour to serve so brave a friend. +Don O.+ You from a life of perils hither come To find a nuptial-bed, not seek a tomb. +Don A.+ My friend engag'd, it never must be said Antonio left him so to go to bed. +Don O.+ Y' are married, and expose what's not your own. +Don A.+ Wedded to honour, that must yield to none. +Don O.+ Honour makes me refuse your aid; we must As well to friends as to ourselves be just. +Don A.+ He ought not to pretend to friendship's name, Who reckons not himself and friend the same. +Don O.+ Friendship with justice must not disagree, That were to break the virtue's harmony. +Don A.+ Friendship is justice; for whene'er we give, We then receive: so 'tis commutative. +Don O.+ So great's your friendship, you your friend oppress: To make it juster, you must make it less. +Don A.+ Friendship can never err in the extent: Like Nile, when't overflows, 'tis most beneficent. +Don O.+ I find, Antonio, you will still subdue. +Don A.+ I owe my triumph to my cause, not you. Come, we lose time; your mistress must not stay. +Don O.+ Who's so accompani'd, needs not fear his way. [_Exeunt._ FOOTNOTES: [55] It may be mentioned here, that throughout the third edition certain sententious passages, and moral and political apothegms, are printed in italics. This ultra-loyal line, and some others of the same kind so distinguished, were first inserted in the copy of the play published two years before the death of the author.--_Collier._ [56] In the year 1572 the town of Mons, in Hainault, was surprised by Count Lodowicke, who fortified himself in it, intending to hold it against the power of Spain. It was soon after invested by the Duke of Alva, and surrendered to him after a long siege, notwithstanding the Prince of Orange, who came before it with an army, with which he some time harassed his enemy, but without effecting his principal design. [57] [Former edits., _march_.] [58] [Former edits., _luckily_.] [59] In the third edition, by an error, this speech is not distinguished from Antonio's description, but it would evidently belong to Octavio, even if, in the two earlier copies, the same mistake had been committed.--_Collier._ [60] [_i.e., On._ Former edits., _of_.] [61] [In former edits. this line is given to Diego.] [62] [Perhaps we should read _With_.] ACT III. +Scene.+--_+Don Henrique's+ house._ _+Camilla,+ +Porcia,+ and +Flora+ appear in a balcony._ +Por.+ Come, cousin, the hour assign'd approaches. +Cam.+ Nay, more than so; for 'tis already night. +Flo.+ And, thanks to your stars, sufficiently dark. +Por.+ _To the clouds_ you would say, Flora; for stars, In this occasion, would not much befriend us. Pray, cousin, when Octavio shall arrive, Do you and Flora watch above with care; For if my cruel brother should surprise us---- +Cam.+ Let us alone to play the sentinels. +Flo.+ I'm confident he's abroad, and will not Suddenly return; for I heard him say He'd pass the evening at the corregidor's: And thence, you know, he seldom comes home early. _Enter +Antonio+, +Octavio+, and +Diego+, with their cloaks over their faces, and their swords undrawn in their hands._ +Don A.+ Is it not something early for adventures Of this nature. +Don O.+ 'Tis the hour she appointed. +Don A.+ How dark 'tis grown o' th' sudden! there's not one Star appears in all the firmament. +Diego.+ So much the better; for when I must fight, I covet no spectators of my prowess. [_Aside._ +Don O.+ Stay you here, Antonio; I'll step before, and give the sign. When you hear the door open, then come on, and follow me in. _Enter at the other side of the stage +Don Henrique+ and +Don Carlos+._ +Don H.+ The corregidor's is a sweet place. +Don C.+ The walks and fountains so entice me, I still Weary myself before I can retire. +Don H.+ Indeed we have stay'd longer than we thought, And therefore let's go home the shorter way: The back-door of my garden's here at hand. +Don C.+ It will be better than to go about. +Por.+ Would he were come, I fear the rising moon Will give us little time. [_Above in the balcony. +Octavio+ knocks upon the hilt of his sword._ I think I hear his usual knock. Who's there? +Don O.+ 'Tis I. +Por.+ I hope y' are not alone. +Don O.+ No; here's Diego with me, and a friend. +Por.+ 'Tis well. I'll open the door presently. +Don H.+ Come, we are now hard by the garden-gate. +Don O.+ Let's to the door; sure, she's there by this time. Be not afraid, Diego. +Diego.+ You had as good command me not to breathe. +Don O.+ Come on; what are you thinking on? +Diego.+ That I see company, or that my fear does. +Don O.+ Y' are i' th' right; let's, to avoid suspicion, Walk on at large till they are out of distance. [_The noise of a lock._ +Don C.+ I think I heard your garden door open. +Don H.+ I think so too; ha! at this time of the night? Why, what a devil can this mean? 'Tis so. +Don A.+ They have open'd this door: 'tis time for me To follow; surely Octavio is gone in. [_+Antonio+ goes towards the door._ +Por.+ What stay you for? [_Holding the door half open._ +Don H.+ What is't I hear? sure, 'tis Porcia's voice. +Por.+ What mean you to stand there? come in, I say. +Don H.+ Hell and furies! [_He goes to draw his sword._ +Don C.+ Be patient, sir, and you will make a clearer Discovery of your affront. +Por.+ You may come in securely, Octavio. [_Setting open the door._ I have set those will watch my brother's coming. +Don A.+ Madam, I am not Octavio. +Por.+ Not Octavio! who are you then, and who's That shadow there? +Don H.+ I can hold no longer. [_Aside._] I'm thy destiny, [_Draws his sword._ Vile woman, and his mortal enemy. +Don A.+ Ha, my mortal enemy? +Don H.+ Yes, villain. Whoe'er them art, thou shalt pay This treachery with thy life. +Don A.+ Vain man! whoe'er thou art, know [that] the life Thou threaten'st is guarded by a trusty sword. [_+Don Carlos+ draws, and they all enter the garden fighting._ +Don H.+ Make fast the door. [_To +Don Carlos+._ Thou art some desperate villain hir'd to murder. [_+Octavio+ and +Diego+ come to the door._ +Don A.+ Hir'd by friendship, and honour's my salary. [_In the garden._ +Don O.+ That's Antonio's voice within the garden: [_Runs to the door and finds it shut._ What, the door shut! my friend engaged, and I Excluded! cursed fate! this tree may help me To climb o'er; if not, I'll fly t' him. [_He climbs up._ +Diego.+ You may do so; your sprightly love has wings, And's ever fledg'd;[63] 'tis moulting-time with mine: Yet I'll up too; the hazard's not in climbing. [_+Diego+ climbs the tree._ Here I will sit, and out of danger's reach Expect the issue. _Scene changes to a garden, out of which they issue fighting._ +Don O.+ Courage, brave friend; you have Octavio by you. +Don A.+ So seconded, a coward would grow firm. +Don H.+ What, is there more of your crew? then 'tis time To call for help. Ho! Silvio, Geraldo, Pedro! come forth, and bring out torches with you. _Enter +Silvio+, with his sword drawn._ +Sil.+ Here am I, sir, my camarades[64] will follow [_They fight._ As soon as they have lighted their torches. +Don A.+ How I despise these slaves, Octavio, Having you by me! +Diego.+ Their swords do clatter bravely in the dark. [_In the tree._ +Sil.+ I'm slain. [_+Silvio+ falls. +Don Henrique+, stepping back, falls over +Silvio+, and loses his sword, and Carlos runs in to him._ +Don C.+ What,[65] are you hurt? +Don H.+ No, I fell by chance; help me to find my sword. +Don O.+ What, do you give back? you do well to take breath, Whilst you have any left; 'twill not be long, Now that the rising moon lends us some light. [_The rising moon appears behind the scene. +Porcia+ runs out to +Octavio+._ +Por.+ O Octavio, let not this moment slip To free me from my cruel brother's fury, Or never hope to see me any more Amongst the living. [_+Octavio+ leads her away by the arm._ +Don O.+ Ah, noble maid! he that is once possess'd Of such a treasure, and defends it not, Let him live wretched, and detested die. Where's my brave friend? +Don A.+ You have me by your side: lead off your mistress; I'll secure your retreat. +Diego.+ That, doubtless, is my master who, victorious, [_In the tree, pointing to those who are going off._ Is bravely marching off with his fair prize: I'll down and follow. +Don C.+ But whilst I was engag'd to succour you, [_Having helped up +Don Henrique+._ Our enemies, I fear, are got away: I heard the door open, and see none here: Although the night's much brighter than it was. I'll follow, and trace the villains, if I can, To their dens: meanwhile take care of your sister: And pray, till my return, be moderate. +Don H.+ How! moderation in this case?--what, ho! Geraldo, Pedro! Ah, ye cursed rogues! _Enter Servants with torches._ Durst ye not show your heads till they were gone? Geraldo, light me in, whilst Pedro looks To his hurt companion. Ah, Porcia, Porcia! [_Exeunt +Don Henrique+ and +Geraldo+: +Pedro+ carries out Silvio fainting with his hurts._ _Scene changes to the city of Seville. Enter +Don Octavio+, +Porcia+, +Don Antonio+, and a little after +Diego+, and after them +Don Carlos+._ +Diego.+ Sure, that's Antonio bringing up the rear? Sir, th' are but just before; my master bears her [_Looking back to +Don Carlos+._ Most gallantly away: lose not sight of me. +Don C.+ This rogue takes me for one of his own crew; He will by his mistake help me to harbour 'em. [_Exeunt._ _+Camilla+ and +Flora+ appear in the balcony. Scene changes to +Don Henrique's+ house._ +Cam.+ Was there ever such a disaster, Flora? Sure, th' are all dead, so great's the silence. Porcia! Porcia! Nobody answers. +Flo.+ Madam, let us go down into the garden. +Cam.+ Excuse me; that were to involve myself In this unlucky scandal. 'Tis possible, Affrighted with the scuffle, she's return'd Into her quarter by the other door; Let's away thither. [_They go down upon the stage._ +Flo.+ O madam! I see a light, and Don Henrique coming this way with his sword drawn; what shall we do? +Cam.+ Peace; let us hide ourselves behind the door [_They go behind the door._ Till we discover his intentions. _Enter +Don Henrique+ and +Geraldo+ with a torch, and +Pedro+ with a light: +Don Henrique+ and +Geraldo+, their swords drawn._ +Ped.+ Sir, I have search'd all the rooms of the house, And cannot find her. +Don H.+ Base, infamous woman! maybe, she's fled To the quarter order'd for Antonio. +Ped.+ That door is lock'd, and's servant has the key. +Don H.+ Ah, this cursed vagabond! thus to rob [_He stamps._ A brother of the fruits of all his care, And cast this stain on th' honour of our house! But if ever I get the fugitive Within my reach, I'll sacrifice her blood To the offended spirits of my ancestors. +Flo.+ Madam, d' you hear? +Cam.+ Yes, and tremble, Flora. +Don H.+ Call for her woman. +Ped.+ Flora! Flora! _Enter +Flora+._ +Flo.+ My good angel guard me! What's your pleasure, sir? +Don H.+ Where's your mistress, hussy? +Flo.+ She told me, sir, about half an hour since, She would go down into the garden. [_Exit +Flora+._ +Don H.+ My shame is certain. Ah! the sad condition Of us men of honour! how unequally Our crosses and our comforts mingled are! Our orphan sisters are no sooner grown Above the follies of their childish age (During which season custom does exact Our watchful caution over all their actions), But they are grafted on some stranger stock, Where they do change both their abodes and names Without the least reflection on their kindness, Who pain'd themselves to cultivate their youth; Or else remain to exercise our fears. O unjust heavens! why suffer you that they, Who to our joys of life such bubbles are, Should add such weight unto our griefs and care? Ah, Porcia, Porcia!. _Enter +Don Carlos+._ +Don C.+ Don Henrique, if I am not much mistaken, I have in this short time made a great progress Towards your redress: I come from harbouring The villains who have done you this affront. +Cam.+ [_behind._] It imports to be attentive now. +Don H.+ O, you revive me! May I but once enjoy The pleasure of my revenge, though the next Moment were the last period of my life, I should depart contented. Are the villains Within our reach? +Don C.+ Be patient, sir, and I'll inform you fully. You were no sooner up, but I pursu'd Your flying enemies, hoping the night, Grown somewhat lighter, might help me to discover The place of their retreat. One of their party Who was behind the rest, mistaking me For one of his camerades, bad me come on, Saying his master was but just before; That he had borne his mistress bravely off, And put her champion brother out of combat. +Don H.+ Insolent rascal! [_He stamps._ +Don C.+ We had not pass'd above a street or two, Before he stopp'd, and at the second house Beyond the church, in Saint Iago's Street, He enter'd and desired me to follow him. I making a stand, he grew suspicious, And from my silence guessing his mistake, He slipp'd into the house, and lock'd the door. When I had well observ'd the street and house, I came with speed to give you this account. +Flo.+ O madam, this is Don Octavio's house: Without all doubt, they've carri'd Porcia thither. [_To +Camilla+ behind the door._ +Cam.+ Peace, Flora, and listen to the sequel. +Don H.+ Come, cousin, we lose time--Heigh! who waits there? I will besiege the house; if they refuse To render, I'll reduce that theatre Of my shame to ashes, and make their fort Both theirs and its own sepulchre. There are Such charms in vengeance, that I do not wonder It is reserv'd for him who form'd the thunder. +Don C.+ Have patience, cousin, and consult your reason; 'Twill soon convince you how unpracticable And vain your proposition is t' attempt, At this time of night, a house so guarded In a well-govern'd city: that would prove Very like thunder, which the cloud destroys, Wherein 'twas form'd, producing only noise. What can the issue be, but to alarm The town, expose your person and your fortune To th' rigour of the law, publish your shame, And frustrate your revenge for ever? +Don H.+ What! would you have me tarry till these villains, Who have invaded my house, affronted My person, murder'd my servant, and robb'd Me of a sister, may evade my vengeance? [_Spoken hastily._ +Don C.+ No, fear not that; let me alone to find A certain way to hinder their escape. I'll instantly to the corregidor, And beg the assistance of his authority To secure these criminals for the present, That afterwards the law may punish them. +Don H.+ A fine proposal! Why, cousin, can you think That I'll submit a personal injury To th' tame decision of the formal law? And, having been affronted by the sword, To pray the aid of the long robe, and take An advocate for second? Reliev'd by law! +Don C.+ Since we all parties are in making laws, We must not judges be in our own cause: We hold it infamous to break our words, Yet cancel the great charter with our swords. +Don H.+ They by their insolence the laws invade. +Don C.+ But you by your revenge the laws degrade. +Don H.+ Honour obliges me to take revenge. +Don C.+ Honour is justice, rightly understood: Your idol honour's only heat of blood. +Don H.+ Honour's opinion, which rules all the world. +Don C.+ Opinion, Henrique, only governs fools; Reason the wise and truly valiant rules. +Don H.+ Reason's opinion; for every one Stamps reason on his own opinion. +Don C.+ Then, by your argument, when people join In making laws, because they all opine, Laws are reasonable, and bind us all---- +Don H.+ Curse on your sophistry, to treat a friend With figures, that's raging in a fever! You may as well pretend to teach a man To sing his part, that's stretch'd upon a rack. No, sir, I'll sooner lose this irksome life, Than e'er consent to publish my disgrace Before I have reveng'd it--to assist At the funeral of my own honour! [_He stamps._ +Don C.+ What a wild creature is a choleric man! [_Aside._ 'Tis far from my intent; all my design Is only how we may conceal your shame, Till we have got these villains in our power; Which can be brought about by no such means, As by demanding justice against those Who did assault your person, and have wounded Your servant--a very plausible pretence! Will this content you? Trust my conduct, cousin: Is not my interest the same with yours? +Don H.+ Well, since it must be so, I pray, make haste. +Don C.+ Doubt not my diligence; by this I'll prove Friendship has fire and wings, as well as love. +Don H.+ If you could fly, you'd move with too much leisure; Ah, tedious minutes, which revenge does measure! [_Exit +Carlos+._ +Flo.+ Madam, y' have heard their mischievous design? +Cam.+ Yes, Flora, out of question Porcia's there, And, if they find her, she is lost for e'er. +Flo.+ I'll try to hinder it, though I were certain To perish in th' attempt. I'm confident The house at present is in such confusion, I may run thither without being miss'd. +Cam.+ 'Tis well thought on; in the interim, I'll retire To Porcia's chamber. [_Exeunt from behind the door._ _Enter +Geraldo+._ +Ger.+ Sir, Don Antonio is just arriv'd. +Don H.+ Ha! what's that you say, sirrah? +Ger.+ That Don Antonio, sir, your brother-in-law, Is without, walking i' th' hall, and bad me Give you notice of it. Shall he come in? +Don H.+ Antonio arrived! O heavens, this circumstance Was only wanting to complete my shame! When he desires to see his wife, shall I Myself inform a person of his quality That she is run away? Where shall I find A heart, a tongue, a voice: or breath, or face, To utter this unparallel'd disgrace? [_Spoken hastily._ O this fantastic sense of honour! At my own tribunal stand assoil'd,[66] Yet, fearing others' censure, am embroil'd. +Ger.+ What is your pleasure, sir? 'tis possible That Don Antonio may think it long. +Don.+ H. Wait on him in, but at the same time tell him You cannot find me. I will leave my house And the discovery of my shame to fate, And any censure rather undergo Than be the reporter of my own disgrace; Till first I have my honour's ransom paid In the vile blood of this perfidious maid. [_Exit +Henrique+._ _Enter +Don Antonio+ and +Ernesto+._ +Don A.+ My friend and his fair mistress safely lodg'd, And free from their adventure, 'tis now fit To mind my own engagement. But, Ernesto, What can the meaning be of this rude usage, In suffering me to stay without thus long Upon my first arrival? Come, let's go on Into the other rooms. +Ern.+ I swear, sir, I'm amazed at this great change. 'Tis not above two hours since I found here A numerous and well-order'd family, In all appearance. Now I see the pages Bolt out of the doors, then start back again Into their holes, like rabbits in a warren! The maids lie peeping at the garret-windows, Like th' upper tier of ordnance in a ship; All looks disorder'd now; nor can I guess What may have caus'd so great an alteration. But there I see the servant you sent in. _Enter +Geraldo+._ +Don A.+ Friend, where's your master? +Ger.+ I cannot tell, sir. +Don A.+ Where is his sister? +Ger.+ In truth, I know not, sir; we men-servants Have little to do in the ladies' quarters. [_Exit +Geraldo+._ +Don A.+ This looks but oddly. Are you sure, Ernesto, Y' have not misguided me to a wrong house? +Ern.+ If you are sure, sir, that we are awake, Then I am certain this is the same house, Wherein this afternoon I saw and spoke with Don Henrique and your bride: by the same token, There was a lady with her in a veil, And this very room is the antechamber To her apartment. +Don A.+ I should be finely serv'd if, after all This negotiation and a tedious journey, My pains and patience should be cast away On some such wither'd sybil for a wife, As her own brother is asham'd to show me. +Ern.+ You'll soon be freed from that fear, sir. [_+Ernesto+ goes toward the door._ +Don A.+ How so? +Ern.+ Because I see her in the inner room, Lying along upon her couch, and reading. Her face is turn'd the other way; but yet Her shape and clothes assure me 'tis the same. +Don A.+ Art certain that 'tis she? +Ern.+ There are not many like her. +Don A.+ If thou be'st sure 'tis she, I'll venture in Without her brother's presence t' introduce me. +Ern.+ She's coming this way, sir. _Enter +Camilla+ reading._ +Cam.+ Y' have reason, Dido, and 'tis well remark'd-- [_She shuts her book; and after a little pause_-- The woman who suffers herself to love Ought likewise to prepare herself to suffer. There was great power in your charms, Æneas, T' enthral a lady's heart at first approach, And make such early and such deep impressions, That nothing but her death could e'er deface. Alas, poor Dido!-- +Don A.+ O heavens! what's that I see?--or do I dream? [+Antonio+, _seeing her, starts, then stands as if amazed._ Sure, I am asleep, and 'tis a vision Of her who's always present to my thoughts; Who (fearing my revolt) does now appear To prove and to confirm my constancy. When first I saw that miracle, she seem'd An apparition; here it must be one. What fit of frenzy's this? +Ern.+ Sir, 'tis Porcia: A lovely, living woman, and your bride. +Don A.+ The blessing is too mighty for my faith. +Ern.+ Faith! Ne'er trouble your faith in this occasion; Approach her boldly, sir, and trust your sense. +Don A.+ As when we dream of some transporting pleasure, And (finding that we dream) we fear to wake, Lest sense should rob us of our fancy's treasure, And our delightful vision from us take, Bless'd apparition, so it fares with me. That very angel now once more appears, To whose divinity long since I rais'd An altar in my heart, where I have offer'd The constant sacrifice of sighs and vows. My eyes are open, yet I dare not trust 'em! Bliss above faith must pass for an illusion. If such it be, O, let me sleep for ever, Happily deceiv'd? But, celestial maid, If this thy glorious presence real be, O, let one word of pity raise my soul From visionary bliss, and make me die With real joy instead of ecstasy. Speak, speak, my destiny; for the same breath May warm my heart, or cool it into death. +Ern.+ 'Slife! he's in one of his old fits again-- Why, what d' you mean, sir? 'tis Porcia herself. +Cam.+ I am that maid, who to your virtue owes Her honour then and her disquiet since; Yet in my pain I cannot but be pleas'd To find a passion, censur'd in our sex, Justifi'd by so great an obligation. 'Tis true I blush, yet I must own the fire, To which both love and gratitude conspire. +Don A.+ Incomparable creature! can it be That, having suffer'd all which mighty love Did e'er inflict, I now should be repaid With as full joys as love could ever give? Fortune, to make my happiness complete, Has join'd her power, and made me find a bride In a lost mistress: but with this allay-- Of leaving me no means my faith to prove, Since chance anticipates the pains of love. +Cam.+ The servant's error has misled the master, He takes me too for Porcia. Bless'd mistake! Assist me now, artful dissimulation. [_Aside._ But how can that consist with so much passion? 'Tis possible, the sense of my distress'd Condition might dispose a noble heart To take impressions then, which afterwards Time and your second thoughts may have defac'd; But can a constant passion be produc'd From those ideas pity introduc'd? Let your tongue speak your heart; for, should y' abuse me, I shall in time discover the deceit: You may paint fire, Antonio, but not heat. +Don A.+ Madam! +Cam.+ Hold. Be not too scrupulous, Antonio; Let me believe it, though it be not true; For the chief happiness poor maids receive Is when themselves they happily deceive. +Don A.+ If, since those conquering eyes I first beheld, You have not reign'd unrivall'd in my heart, May you despise me now you are my own; Which is to me all curses summ'd in one. But may your servant, madam, take the boldness To ask if you have ever thought of him? +Cam.+ A love, so founded in a grateful heart, Has need of no remembrancer, Antonio; You know yourself too well: those of your trade Have skill to hold as well as to invade. +Don A.+ Fortune has lifted me to such a height Of happiness, that it may turn my brain When I look down upon the world. What have I now to wish but moderation To temper and to fix my joys? +Cam.+ I yield as little t' you, noble Antonio, In happiness as affection; but still Porcia must do as may become your bride, And sister to Don Henrique, in whose absence A longer conference must be excused: Therefore I take the freedom to withdraw. Should I have stay'd until Don Henrique came, His presence would have marr'd my whole design. [_Aside. Exit +Camilla+._ +Don A.+ Where beauty, virtue, and discretion join, 'Tis heaven, methinks, to find that treasure mine! _Enter +Don Henrique+._ +Don H.+ Sure, Don Antonio, having long ere this Found out th' infamous flight of my vile sister, Will be retir'd to meditate revenge Upon us both. Ah, curse! he is there still. [_He sees him._ I'll slip away. But it is now too late; He has perceiv'd me. +Don A.+ How, Don Henrique! avoid your friend that's come So long a journey t' embrace you, and cast Himself at the feet of your fair sister? +Don H.+ Noble Antonio, you may well imagine The trouble I am in, that you should find My house in such disorder, so unfit To receive th' honour of so brave a guest. +Don A.+ 'Tis true, Don Henrique, I am much surpris'd With what I find: I little did expect Your sister Porcia should have been---- +Don H.+ O heavens! I'm lost, he has discover'd all. [_Aside._ 'Tis not, Antonio, in a brother's power To make a sister of a better paste Than heav'n has made her. +Don A.+ In your case 'specially; for without doubt Heaven never made a more accomplish'd creature. +Don H.+ What means the man? [_Aside._ +Don A.+ I come just now from entertaining her, Whose wit and beauty so excel all those Of her fair sex whom I have ever known, That my description of her would appear Rather detraction than a just report Of her perfections. +Don H.+ Certainly he mocks me: he never could Have chosen a worse sufferer of scorn; But I will yet contain myself awhile, To see how far he'll drive it. [_Aside._] Say you, sir, That you have seen and entertain'd my sister? +Don A.+ Yes, Don Henrique; and with such full contentment, So rais'd above expression, that I think The pains and care of all my former life Rewarded with excess in the delight Of those few minutes of her conversation. Tis true that satisfaction was abridg'd By her well-weigh'd severity to give me A greater pleasure in the contemplation Of her discreet observance of the rules Of decency, not suffering me, though now Her husband, any longer to enjoy So great a happiness, you not being by. +Don H.+ I am confounded; but I must dissemble My astonishment till I can unfold The mystery. [_Aside._] She might have spared that caution: But I suppose you'll easily forgive An error on the better side. +Don A.+ Sir, I have seen so much of her perfection In that short visit, I shall sooner doubt Our definitions in morality Than once suppose her capable of error. +Don H.+ This exposition makes it more obscure, I must get him away. [_Aside._] Sir, is't not time To wait on you to your chamber? It's late, And I believe [that] you have need of rest. +Don A.+ I should accept your offer, sir, with thanks, If I were not oblig'd, as late as 'tis, To see a friend before I go to bed. +Don H.+ I'll bear you company, if you'll give me leave. +Don A.+ I humbly thank you, sir, but can't consent To give you so much trouble; I'll return Within an hour at farthest. +Don H.+ Whene'er you please; y' are wholly master here. +Don A.+ I never saw a man so discompos'd, Whate'er the matter is. [_Aside._ Ernesto, I must make a step to see A friend near-hand; bid Sancho follow me, And stay you in my chamber till I come. [_Exeunt +Antonio+ and +Ernesto+._ +Don H.+ Your servant, sir. [_+Don Henrique+ waits on him to the door._] This sudden sally hence At this time of the night, newly arriv'd From a long journey, and not to suffer me To wait upon him, does embroil me more. But now I will not long be in suspense; I'll to my sister's chamber. _Enter +Don Carlos+, as +Don Henrique+ is going into +Porcia's+ chamber._ +Don C.+ Ho! Don Henrique! come away, all's prepar'd. Our kinsman the corregidor is ready With a strong band of serjeants, and stays for you. +Don H.+ Speak softly, Don Antonio is arriv'd, And some of his may overhear us. +Don C.+ That's very unlucky; but does he know Your sister's missing? +Don H.+ I think not yet. +Don C.+ Come, let's away; we have no time to lose. +Don H.+ Pray, stay awhile. I labour with a doubt Will burst me, if not clear'd before I go. +Don C.+ What, cousin, will you lose an opportunity Never to be recover'd? Are you mad? Will you permit the villains to escape, And laugh at us for ever? Come away. [_He pulls him._ +Don H.+ Well, I must go, and let him make it out; The worst estate of human life is doubt. [_Exeunt._ FOOTNOTES: [63] [Former edits., _fledge_.] [64] [So for metre's sake, instead of _comrades_.] [65] [This is printed by Mr Collier, _Wat are you hurt_?] [66] Absolved, discharged. Fr. _absoudre_. Lat. _absolvere_.--_Junius._ See likewise note to Lodge's "Wounds of Civil War" [vii. 169].--_Collier._ "Then had the Monkes aucthoritie to preache, baptyse, and assoyle from synne, which they never had afore."--Bale's "Acts of English Votaries," fol. 35, edit. 1550. See also "World of Wonders," 1607, part i. p. 32.--_Gilchrist._ ACT IV. +Scene.+--_+Don Octavio's+ house._ _Enter +Don Octavio+ angrily, pushing +Diego+, and +Porcia+ following._ +Don O.+ Villain, thou hast undone us! cursed villain! Where was thy soul I had fear quite banish'd it, And left thee not one grain of common sense? +Por.+ Was there ever so fatal an accident? +Don O.+ Why, traitor, didst thou not let me know it As soon as we were come into the house? +Diego.+ What would y' have done, if you had known it then? +Don O.+ I would have sallied out and kill'd the rogue, In whose pow'r thou hast put it to destroy us. Can it be doubted but that long ere this He has acquainted Henrique where we are, From whose black rage we must immediately Expect t' encounter all the worst extremes Of malice, seconded by seeming justice? For the unfortunate are still i' th' wrong. Curse on all cowards! better far be serv'd By fools and knaves: they make less dangerous faults. +Diego.+ Am I in fault because I'm not a cat? How could I tell i' th' dark whether that rascal Were a knight-errant or a recreant knight? I thought him one of us, and true to love. Were it not for such accidents as these, That mock man's forecast, sure, the Destinies Had ne'er been plac'd amongst the deities. +Don O.+ Peace, cowardly slave! having thus play'd the rogue, Are you grown sententious? Did I not fear To stain my sword with such base blood, I'd let Thy soul out with it at a thousand wounds. +Diego.+ Why, then, a thousand thanks to my base blood For saving my good flesh. [_Aside._ +Don O.+ Pardon, my dearest mistress, this excess Of passion in your presence. +Por.+ What shall we do, Octavio? if we stay here, We are undone for ever: my brother Will be instantly upon us. Alas! My own life I value not, Octavio, When yours, my better life, such hazard runs; But, O my honour! O my innocence! Expos'd to scandal: there's my deepest sense. +Don O.+ Though the complexion of your brother's malice Resemble hell, it is not black enough To cast a stain upon your virgin innocence. Sure, two such diff'rent branches ne'er did spring From the same stock. To me't seems very strange, Our middle natures, form'd of flesh and blood, Should have such depths of ill, such heights of good, An angel sister and a devil brother! +Por.+ He's my brother, and I know no defence For injur'd innocence but innocence. Fly, fly, Octavio! leave me to my fate. +Don O.+ Your kindness, generous maid, confutes itself. To save my life, you counsel me to fly, Which is at once to bid me live and die. +Por.+ What then, for heaven's sake, d' you resolve to do? +Don O.+ I must resolve, and suddenly, but what, I swear, I know not: there have been such turns In my misfortunes, they have made me giddy. +Por.+ You must determine; time wastes, Octavio. +Don O.+ Madam, if I should lead you through the streets, And chance to meet the officers of justice, I not daring to avow my person, For that unlucky accident you know of, You might, I fear, by that means be in danger: We must not venture't. Run, rascal, and fetch A chair immediately. +Diego.+ A pretty errand at this time o' th' night! These chairmen are exceedingly well-natur'd; Th' are likely to obey a servant's orders After nine of [the] clock! [_Exit +Diego+._ +Don O.+ Ye pow'rs above, why do ye lay so great A weight on human nature, and bestow Such an unequal force to bear our loads? After a long pursuit, through all those stories, Which hell-bred malice or the pow'r of fate Could ever raise t' oppress a noble love, To be at length possess'd of a rich mine, Where nature seem'd to have lodged all her treasure, And in an instant have it ravish'd from me, Is too rude a trial for my patience To sustain: I cannot bear it. +Por.+ My sense of this misfortune equals yours; But yet I must conjure you to submit To the decrees of those who rule above: Such resignation may incline their justice Th' impending mischief to divert; besides, In human things there's such vicissitude, Where hope should end we hardly can conclude. +Don O.+ Weak hope the parent is of anxious care, And more tormenting far than fix'd despair: This makes us turn to new expedients, That languish 'twixt desire and diffidence. +Por.+ Fortune will blush for shame when she shall find Her best-aim'd darts can never touch your mind. +Don O.+ Ah, Porcia! though my mind be far above The reach of fate, 'tis level unto love. Urge it no more: I'll die a thousand deaths, Ere I'll consent to part with you. [_Strikes his breast._ +Por.+ I shall be always yours; for though we're forc'd To separate, yet we are not divorc'd. +Don O.+ Whilst our souls act by organs of the sense, 'Twixt death and parting there's no difference. +Por.+ Consult your reason, then you will comply, Making a virtue of necessity. +Don O.+ Ah, lovely maid! 'twas not allowed to Jove To hold at once his reason and his love. _Enter +Diego+._ +Diego.+ The chair is come, sir, just as I expected. +Don O.+ Where is it? +Diego.+ Even where it was: they are deeply engag'd _A las Pintas_,[67] and will not leave their game, They swear, for all the dons in Seville. +Don O.+ A curse upon these rogues! I'll make 'em come, Or make their hearts ache. [_+Don Octavio+ runs out._ +Diego.+ Madam, though I was never yet unkind To my own person, I am so much troubled At the disquiet my mistake has brought you, That, could I do't conveniently, i' faith, I would even cudgel myself. +Por.+ Away, buffoon! is this a time for fooling? _Enter +Don Antonio+ and +Sancho+._ +Don A.+ Where is my noble friend Octavio? +Diego.+ Did you not meet him at the door, sir? +Don A.+ No. +Diego.+ He went out, sir, just as you came in. +Don A.+ Madam, I might have gone to bed, but not [_Addresses himself to +Porcia+._ To rest, without returning to inquire Of yours and of my noble friend's condition, And once more to offer you my service. +Por.+ I take the boldness, in Octavio's absence, To return his with my most humble thanks, For your late generous assistance of us, And for this new addition to our debt. +Don A.+ Though I have not th' honour to be known t' you, The service of your sex in their distresses Is the first vow of those of our profession; And my constant friendship for Octavio Is of so old a date, that all occasions, By which I may express the fervour of it, Are most welcome to me. _Enter +Flora+ in great haste._ +Flo.+ O madam, I am cut of breath with running. +Por.+ What accident, Flora, brings you hither? +Flo.+ A sad one, madam, and requiring haste, To give you timely notice on't. Don Carlos, Assisted by the light o' th' rising moon, And by a mistake of some of your train, Has trac'd you to this house, and in my hearing Inform'd your brother of the place and manner Of your retreat: who is now coming hither Accompanied with the corregidor, To seize on whomsoever shall be found Within these walls, upon pretence of murder. +Por.+ O cruel accident! +Flo.+ Madam, make haste: get out of the backdoor, Or you will certainly be met with. +Por.+ How vile a creature am I now become! For, though in my own innocence secure, To the censorious world who, like false glasses, Mingling their own irregular figures, Misreflect the object, I shall appear Some sinful woman, sold to infamy. +Don A.+ Your own clear mind's the glass, which to yourself Reflects yourself; and, trust me, madam, W' are only happy then, when all our joys Flow from ourselves, not from the people's voice. +Flo.+ Madam, they'll instantly be here. +Por.+ O, that Octavio should just now be absent! But to expect till he return were madness. +Don A.+ Y' have reason, madam; and, if you dare trust Your person to the conduct of a stranger, Upon my honour, lady, I'll secure you, Or perish in th' attempt. +Por.+ Generous sir, how shall a wretched maid, Abandon'd by her fate to the pursuit Of an inhuman brother, e'er be able Either to merit or requite your favours? +Don A.+ I am th' oblig'd, if rightly understood, Being o'erpaid by th' joy of doing good. +Por.+ Sir, I resign myself to your protection With equal gratitude and confidence. +Don A.+ Come, madam, we must lose no time-- Diego, find out your master presently, And tell him that, the danger not allowing Our stay till his return, I shall convey His mistress safely to a nunnery. +Por.+ And, Flora, stay you here to bring me word What he resolves to do in this our desperate Condition. [_Exit +Diego+._ +Flo.+ Madam, I shall. +Don A.+ But stay--I swear I'd like to have committed [_Going out, returns._ A foul mistake: the monastery gates Will not be open'd at this time o' th' night Without a strict inquiry into the cause; Besides, 'tis possible that, once lodg'd there, She may be out of my friend's pow'r or mine Ever to get her thence, if it be known. It must not be. I have thought better on't. [_He pauses, and thinks._ I will convey you to my brother-in-law's, A person of such quality and honour, As may protect and serve you with his credit: And there my wife may have the happiness T' accompany you, and pay the offices, Due to your virtue and distress'd condition: And, going to a house that's so much mine, Make account, madam, 'tis to your own home. Sancho, stay you here to attend Octavio, [_Turning to +Sancho+._ And guide him the next way to my apartment: Here is the key, I shall have little use on't, Having Ernesto waiting for me there. One word more, Sancho: let Octavio know 'Tis my advice, that he come in a chair. He by that means may possibly escape Examination, if he should be met with. +Por.+ Flora, I pray, do you continue here, And if by any accident Octavio Should be hinder'd from coming after us, Observe his motions well, and where he fixes; Then return home, and I shall find some way Of sending to you to inform myself. +Flo.+ I shall not fail t' observe your orders, madam. +Don A.+ Madam, I am ready to attend you. +Por.+ Ah, cruel brother! ah, my dear Octavio! How am I tortur'd betwixt love and hate! +Don A.+ W' had better suffer than deserve our fate. [_Exit +Don Antonio+ and +Porcia+._ +San.+ 'Tis no small compliment my master makes Your lady and her gallant, at this time O' th' night to quit his brother-in-law's, and leave So fair a bride as Porcia all alone. +Flo.+ What, is his mistress's name Porcia too? +San.+ Yes; and if she has as fair a handmaid As yourself, I shall soon forget my damsels In the Low Countries. +Flo.+ If your Low-Country damsels resemble us, You would not be put to't to forget first. But I believe that you are safe enough: I have not heard such praises of their wit, But that we may suppose they have good memories. _Enter +Diego+._ +Diego.+ Is not my master yet return'd? +Flo.+ No. +Diego.+ Well, now have we an honourable cause To wear the beadle's livery: faith, Flora, If your tender sex had not been privileg'd From this harsh discipline, how prettily Would the beadle's crimson lace show upon Your white back! +Flo.+ 'Twon't do so well as on a darker ground: 'Twill suit much better with your tawny hide. +San.+ I pray, camerade, is it the mode in Seville To be whipp'd for company? +Diego.+ O sir, a well-bred soldier will ne'er refuse Such a civility to an old friend; This is a new way of being a second, To show your passive courage. +San.+ We soldiers do not use to show our backs. +Diego.+ Not to your enemies; but, sir, the beadle Will prove your friend; for, your blood being heated With riding post, the breathing of a vein Is very requisite. +San.+ Would t' heaven that I were i' the camp again: There we are never stripp'd till we are dead. _Enter +Don Octavio+, and the Chairmen appear at the door._ +Don O.+ Be sure you stir not thence, till I return. [_To the Chairmen._ Sirrah, where's Porcia? +Diego.+ She's fled away i' th' dark with a young man Of your acquaintance. +Don O.+ Rascal, leave your fooling. +Diego.+ There's none i' th' case, sir: 'tis the wisest thing She ever did; had she stay'd your return, She would have fallen into those very clutches In which you will immediately be gripp'd, Unless you make more haste. Flora is come With all the speed she could, to let you know Th' are coming with the justice, to lay hold Of all within this house; pray be quick, sir, And save yourself. She's safe in a nunnery, Conducted thither by Antonio. +Don O.+ Peace, screech-owl! fire consume that tongue of thine! What say'st thou, villain! in a nunnery? Porcia in a nunnery? O heavens! nothing But this was wanting to make me desperate. What hope's there left ever to get her thence, After such accidents as these made public? Ah, Flora, is it true that my dear Porcia Is gone into a nunnery? +Flo.+ Once, sir, 'twas so resolv'd, and Diego sent To give you notice on't; but afterwards, He being gone, they chang'd their resolutions. There's one can tell you more. [_Pointing to +Sancho+._ +San.+ My master bad me stay, to let you know He has convey'd her to his own apartment In his brother-in-law's house, a person So eminent in quality and credit, That the imagining him in her and your Protection, sir, may much avail ye both: Besides, she'll have the satisfaction there Of being treated by my master's bride. There he'll expect you, and advises you To come in a chair, to avoid questioning, In case of any encounter. +Don O.+ I'll take his counsel: he's a generous friend. Come, chairmen, away; pray, friend, do you guide us. [_To +Sancho+._ +Diego.+ Up with your burden, beasts, and fall forthwith To your half-trot. [_Exeunt. The chair is carried over the stage; +Diego+, +Sancho+, and +Flora+ follow._ _A noise within._ Follow, follow, follow! _Enter +Don Carlos+, the +Corregidor+, and +Sergeants+, pursuing +Sancho+, +Flora+, and +Diego+._ +Diego.+ This is one of Don Cupid's pretty jests: W' are struck upon a shelf before we could Put out to sea. +Don C.+ You find, sir, my conjecture's not ill-grounded. [_To the +Corregidore+._ +Cor.+ What are you, sirrah? +Diego.+ A living creature, very like a man: Only I want a heart. +Cor.+ Y' are pleasant, sir; pray heaven your mirth continue. Who is that woman with the veil? +Diego.+ Let her answer for herself, sh' has a tongue; Set it but once agoing, and she'll tell All that she knows, and more. +Cor.+ Make her uncover her face. [_One of the +Sergeants+ goes to lift up her veil._ +Don C.+ Hold, friend. Cousin, if it should be Porcia, [_Turning to the +Corregidore+._ It were not fit to expose her here. +Cor.+ 'Tis very well consider'd. Go you to her. And speak to her in private. [_+Don Carlos+ goes towards +Flora+._ +Flo.+ 'Tis I, sir, Flora who, being commanded By my lady---- +Don C.+ Speak softly, prythee, Flora, 'tis enough; I understand the rest, and pity her: Bid her sit still i' th' chair, I'll do my best To save her from dishonour. +Flo.+ He thinks 'tis Porcia there; a good mistake; It may secure Octavio from the hands Of this rude rabble. [_Aside._ They take you for my mistress, sir; sit still, [_To +Don Octavio+ in the chair._ I'll follow the chair, and watch all occasions To further your escape. +Don C.+ We have found our wand'ring nymph, sir. +Cor.+ Was it Porcia? +Don C.+ No, sir, 'twas her waiting-woman, Flora, following the chair, wherein they were conveying her lady to some other place. +Cor.+ We arriv'd luckily: had we but stay'd a moment longer, they had all been fled. +Ser.+ Will you have us see, sir, who's i' th' chair? +Cor.+ Forbear, fellow! Her own folly is punishment enough [_To +Don Carlos+._ T' a woman of her quality, without Our adding that of public shame. +Don C.+ 'Twas happily thought on, when you oblig'd Don Henrique to expect us at your house; For had he come and found his sister here, 'T had been impossible to have restrain'd His passion from some great extravagance. +Cor.+ I could not think it fit to let him come; For one of such a spirit would ne'er brook The sight of these had done him these affronts And's better that a business of this nature, Especially 'twixt persons of such quality, Should be compos'd, if it were possible, By th' mediation of some chosen friends, Than brought t' a public trial of the law; Or, which is worse, some barbarous revenge. +Don C.+ This fellow, if I am not much[68] mistaken, [_Looking upon +Diego+._ Is Don Octavio's man. +Cor.+ Who do you belong to, friend? +Diego.+ To nobody, sir. +Cor.+ Do not you serve? +Diego.+ Yes, sir; but my master is not himself. +Cor.+ Take his sword from him, sergeant. [_The +Sergeant+ goes to lake away his sword._ +Diego.+ Diego, disarm'd by any other hand Than by his own? Know, friend, it is a weapon Of such dire execution, that I dare not Give it up but to the hands of justice. [_The +Corregidor+ receives the sword, and gives it to the hands of his +Sergeants+._ Pray call for't, sir, as soon as you come home, And hang't up in your hall, then underwrite, This is bold Diego's sword. O, may it be Ever from rust, as 'tis from slaughter, free! +Cor.+ Thou art a fellow of a pleasant humour. +Diego.+ Faith, sir, I never pain myself for love, Or fame, or riches; nor do I pretend To that great subtlety of sense, to feel Before I'm hurt; and for the most part I keep myself out of harm's way. +Don C.+ The definition of a philosopher! +Cor.+ Come, leave your fooling, sirrah. Where's your master? +Diego.+ The only way to leave my fooling, sir, Is to leave my master; for, without doubt, Whoever has but the least grain of wit Would never serve a lover militant: He had better wait upon a mountebank, And be run through the body twice a week To recommend his balsam. +Cor.+ This fellow is an original. +Diego.+ But of so ill a hand, I am not worth The hanging up, sir, in my master's room, Amongst the worst of your collection. _Enter +Sergeants+, with two Footmen and two Maid-servants._ +Ser.+ An't please your worship, we have search'd the house From the cellars to the garrets, and these Are all the living cattle we can find. +Cor.+ Friends, take a special care of that same varlet And the waiting-woman: we'll find a way To make them tell the truth, I warrant you. +Flo.+ O Diego! must we be prisoners together? +Diego.+ Why, that's not so bad as the bands of wedlock, Flora. +Cor.+ Come, let's away; but whither to convey her? To her own house certainly were not fit, Because of her incensed brother. +Don C.+ If you approve on't, cousin, I'll carry her To mine; for since we seek (if possible) To compose the business, she will be there With much more decency and satisfaction, Being in a kinsman's house, and where she'll have My sister to accompany her. +Cor.+ This business cannot be in better hands Than yours; and there I'll leave it, and bid you Good night. +Don C.+ Your servant, cousin; I wish you well at home. You may be pleas'd to take your sergeants with you; [_As the +Corregidor+ goes out_-- There are without two servants of Don Henrique's, They'll be enough to guard our prisoners, And with less notice. +Cor.+ Come, sergeants, follow me. +Don C.+ Well, ye may go about your business, friends. [_To the Footmen and Maids._ I am glad we did not find Octavio here; For, though I might justly pretend ignorance, I would not have him suffer, though by chance. [_Exeunt Servants._ +San.+ Well, I am now sufficiently instructed, And, since there is no notice ta'en of me, I'll fairly steal away, and give my master An account of this misfortune. [_Exit +Sancho+._ +Don C.+ Take up the chair, and follow me. [_They take up the chair._ +Diego.+ A lovely dame they bear: 'tis true, she's something Hairy about the chin, but that, they say, 's A sign of strength. It tickles me to think How like an ass he'll look when, op'ning the shell, His worship finds within so rough a kernel. [_Exeunt._ _Scene changes to +Don Antonio's+ apartment in +Don Henrique's+ house. Enter +Don Antonio+ and +Porcia+._ +Don A.+ Madam, banish your fear: you are now safe Within these walls: be pleas'd to remain here Till I shall bring some lights, and acquaint Porcia With th' honour she'll receive in entertaining So fair a guest. +Por.+ Who is't you say you will advertise, sir? +Don A.+ My wife Porcia. Have but a little patience, And she'll attend you, madam. [_Exit +Antonio+._ +Por.+ Is her name Porcia too? Pray heaven send her A better fate than her distress'd name's-sake. But whither am I brought? What house is this? What with my fears and darkness of the night, I have lost all my measures: I can't guess What quarter of the town it is w' are in; For, to avoid the meeting with my brother And his revengeful train, we have been forc'd To make so many turnings, I am giddy. But, thanks to providence, I have this comfort, That now I'm in a place out of his reach. _Enter +Don Antonio+ with two lights, and sets them on the table._ +Don A.+ Madam, my wife will suddenly attend you; Pardon, I pray, my absence for a moment. [_Exit +Antonio+._ +Por.+ Now I begin to hope my sighs and tears Have in some measure with just heaven prevail'd At length to free me. But what do I see! [_Looking about her, she starts._ Am I awake, or is it an illusion? Bless me, is not this my brother's house? this, The quarter joining to my own apartment? There is no room for doubt; and my misfortunes Are always certain and without redress. Unerring powers, arbiters of fate, Teach me my crimes, and how to expiate Your wrath! Alas! I know not what I have done To merit this continued persecution! But how came I here I brought by Octavio's friend, One on whose virtue I did so rely, That I my brother's malice durst defy. Can he betray me? sure, I'm in a dream. But if Octavio--O vile suspicion! Octavio false?--No, truth and he are one. 'Tis possible his friend may guilty be, But to what end so base a treachery? And if perfidious, how could he be his friend? I am confounded with the various forms Of my misfortunes, heighten'd still the more, The less I can their hidden cause explore. This only's evident, that I must fly Immediately this fatal place. But why Struggle I thus with fate, since, go or stay, Death seems alike to wait me every way. [_She weeps._ _Enter +Don Antonio+ and +Camilla+._ +Cam.+ I wonder much what lady this can be Antonio mentions. [_Aside._ +Don A.+ Pardon, I beseech you, madam, the liberty Which I so early take; but I presume Such is your generous tenderness to those Whose spiteful fortunes, not their fault, has brought Into distress, that you will think yourself Oblig'd to him who gives you the occasion T' exercise those virtues, which only visit Others, but reside with you. This fair lady-- But she will best relate her own sad story, Whilst I seek out Don Henrique, and engage him T' employ his power and int'rest for her service. [_Exit +Don Antonio+. Upon +Camilla's+ approach +Porcia+ takes the handkerchief from her eyes._ +Cam.+ Ha! what is that I see? Stay, stay, Antonio, [_She runs after Antonio._ It is not fit Don Henrique--but he's gone, And we are lost for ever! +Por.+ O heavens! is this Antonio, the same man, To whom I am betroth'd? then my destruction Is inevitable. +Cam.+ Are you an apparition, or are you Porcia herself? speak; that when y' have said it thrice, I may not yet believe you. +Por.+ You well may doubt even what you see, Camilla, Since my disasters are so new and strange, They sever truth from credibility. +Cam.+ How is it possible you should be here? +Por.+ I know not how: only of this I'm sure, I have not long to expect the dismal end Of my sad tragedy; since 'tis evident, The person that hath led me to this place, This fatal place, is the abus'd Antonio, Who has conspir'd with my unnatural brother To take away my wretched life, and chose This scene as fittest for their cruelty. And thus, strange fate! (through ignorance betray'd) I have sought protection from the same party Whom I have injur'd, and have made my husband The only confidant of his own affront: Who, to accomplish his too just revenge, As well upon my family as person, Gives me up to be murder'd by my brother; So, whilst I'm branded as a faithless bride, He'll be detested as a parricide. +Cam.+ Prodigious accident! but wert thou blind, Not to know thine own house, unhappy Porcia? +Por.+ Alas! how could I, in so dark a night, In such confusion, and so full of fear? Besides, he brought me in by the back-way, Through his own quarter, where was neither light, Nor any creature of the family. +Cam.+ Although I cannot comprehend the steps Of this your strange adventure, yet, dear cousin, Your case, as I conceive, is not so desperate. +Por.+ We easily persuade ourselves to hope The things we wish. But, cousin, my condition Will not admit self-flattery, and what Can you propose to temper my despair? +Cam.+ Don't you remember, how this afternoon Antonio's man, finding me in your quarter Without a veil, you having put on mine, That he applied himself to me, and I, By your command, assum'd your person? +Por.+ Yes, very well. +Cam.+ The master since has, by the man's mistake, Been happily led into the same error: I have not disabus'd him yet, in hopes It might produce advantage to us both. +Por.+ O, he has spoken with my brother since, Who (sure) has undeceiv'd him long e'er this. No, without doubt, they, having found themselves Affronted both, have both conspir'd my death. +Cam.+ How, cousin, can that be, if Don Antonio Has engag'd himself in your protection, And is Octavio's friend? +Por.+ Cousin, if you impartially reflect On the affront which I have done Antonio, You will not wonder much if he recede From the scarce-trodden path of rigid honour To meet with his revenge, and to that end Proceeds thus cautelously, still pretending He knows not me, that he may disavow, Both to Octavio and to all the world, Th' infamy of betraying a poor maid To loss of life and honour. +Cam.+ Misfortunes make you rave: this vile suspicion Is inconsistent with Antonio's fame. You may as well believe that nature will Reverse the order of the whole creation, As that Antonio, a man whose soul Is of so strong and perfect a complexion, Should e'er descend to such a slavish sin. [_Spoken with heat._ And if we had the leisure, I could give you Such reasons to convince you of your error, That you would both acknowledge and repent it. +Por.+ Alas! I had forgot her near concernments For Antonio. [_Aside._] Pardon and pity me, Camilla; My mind is so distracted by afflictions, I know not what I should, or should not, fear. +Cam.+ I pity thee with all my heart. But, cousin, If Antonio, not knowing you nor your Relations, should chance to find your brother, And tell him unawares all that has pass'd, And that h' has brought the distress'd party hither, He'll presently imagine it is you, And then, I fear, 'twill be impossible (Though he should interpose with all his power) To stop the torrent, or divert his rage From breaking in, and executing on us That horrid parricide which, though too late, It may be he himself would execrate. +Por.+ There's too much ground for what you fear, Camilla; But if I could secure myself this night, 'Tis very possible that to-morrow We might engage Antonio and your brother To find out some expedient to relieve me. +Cam.+ Were you only in pain for your security This night, I know an easy remedy For that. +Por.+ Which way, my dearest? +Cam.+ Why, what does hinder us from making use On this occasion of the secret door, By which, you know, you have so often pass'd Into your house upon more pleasing errands? By this we shall obtain these benefits-- [A] safety from your brother's present fury, And time to try if Carlos and Antonio May be engag'd to mediate in this business; And I have cause to think you will not find Antonio so implacable as you Imagine. +Por.+ I conceive you, cousin. Fool that I was, To think a heart once conquer'd by your eyes Should e'er become another virgin's prize! _Enter +Don Antonio+._ +Don A.+ So late! a guest in's house, that's come so far On such a business, and not yet come home! There's something in't I cannot comprehend. [_Aside._ Madam, I han't as yet found out your brother, But (sure) 'twill not be long ere he return; Then I'll acquaint him with the accident Has made his house this lady's sanctuary. +Por.+ Here is a glimpse of comfort, for I see He takes my cousin for Don Henrique's sister. [_Aside._ O bless'd mistake, so luckily continu'd! +Cam.+ I am by his permission mistress here; And since that I am pleas'd, sir, 'tis enough, Without our troubling him with the account Of her sad story. +Don A.+ True, madam, as to her reception here; But yet 'twere very fit he knew it too, That we might serve ourselves of his advice And credit for this lady's service. _Enter +Don Henrique+._ +Don H.+ Though I did promise the corregidor Not to stir from his house till his return, Yet I could not obtain it of myself; [_Aside._ I'm so impatient to unfold the riddle Of Don Antonio's seeing of my sister, And entertaining her in her own lodgings. I shall not now be long i' th' dark. O heavens! [_He sees her._ 'Tis she herself, and Camilla with her. Were all my servants mad, or all agreed T' abuse me in affirming she was fled? But Don Carlos, was he mad too to swear That he had trac'd her to another house? Certainly I or they must be possess'd, Or some enchantment reigns within these walls. +Don A.+ O, here comes Don Henrique: now I'll acquaint him With your sad story, madam. +Cam.+ I fear we are undone. +Don A.+ Don Henrique! +Por.+ I'm dead if he proceed, but how to hinder him---- +Don A.+ Here's a lady with your sister Porcia---- +Don H.+ Yes, sir, I see who 'tis. +Don A.+ Since you know her, sir, you will the easier Excuse my boldness. +Don H.+ Boldness! in what, sir? +Don A.+ To have been th' occasion of your finding her Here with your sister at this time o' th' night. +Don H.+ Lord, sir, what do you mean? +Don A.+ There was in truth such a necessity in it, That 'twill, I hope, excuse my humble suit to you In her's and my behalf. +Por.+ Now all comes out. +Don H.+ I understand you, sir; she does desire To pass this night with Porcia, to assist her In th' ordering of her nuptial ceremonies. Let her stay, a' God's name. +Por.+ If he does not dissemble, my condition Is not so desperate as I imagin'd. [_Aside._ +Don A.+ I hope you'll pardon this great liberty: So early a confidence will need it, sir. +Don H.+ 'Tis more than enough that you desire it; Th' occasion, too, does justify her stay. +Don A.+ 'Tis most true, sir, th' occasion did enforce me Thus boldly to presume upon your friendship. +Don H.+ Ha' done, for heaven's sake: is it a novelty, Think you, for Porcia and her cousin-german To pass a night together? +Don A.+ Is she so near a kinswoman of his? Strange inadvertence in her not to tell me Her relation to him when I nam'd him first. I'd made fine work on't, had I told him all. [_Aside._ +Don H.+ She knows I owe her many a good turn Upon Octavio's score, and hope ere long To be able to repay her to the full. [_Looking on the ladies, and spoken aside, that +Antonio+ might not hear him._ +Por.+ Can he declare his mind in plainer terms? +Cam.+ I cannot tell which of us two he means: These words may be applied to either of us; But I begin to fear that he knows all. +Don H.+ Since 'tis so late, pray give the ladies leave To retire to their chambers. Go in, sister. +Don A.+ My brother's words and his behaviour Imply some mystery; but I must be silent Till I discover more. [_Aside._ +Por.+ Let us be gone; w' are lost if we stay here. I'm confident he counterfeits this calm To cover his revenge, until Antonio And the rest of the house are gone to bed. +Cam.+ But we shall ne'er be able to get out, Whilst they continue in the outward rooms. +Por.+ Yes, by the garden door; but I'm afraid 'Tis shut. +Cam.+ No, now I think on't, Flora went that way, And left it open. +Por.+ Come, let's be gone: I hope heaven will ordain Ease by that door which first let in my pain. [_Exeunt +Porcia+ and +Camilla+._ +Don A.+ I'll only make a step, sir, to my chamber, And then return to you immediately. +Don H.+ Pray, sir, give me leave to wait on you. +Don A.+ I humbly thank you, sir; I know the way, And shall not stay above a moment from you. +Don H.+ What you please, sir; you command here. +Don A.+ I'll now go see whether my servant Sancho Has brought Octavio to my lodgings, As I directed him. [_Exit +Don Antonio+._ +Don H.+ Heavens! was there ever so strange a mystery! Don Carlos, he affirm'd that those we fought with Had convey'd Porcia away; and when I come To seek her in the house, I find her missing: To second this, her waiting-woman Flora Tells me that she went down, about that time, Into the garden: Antonio, not long after, Affirms that he both saw and entertain'd her In her own apartment, where I now find her, And Camilla with her. What can this be? These, sure, are riddles to pose an Œdipus; But if, by my own sense, I am assur'd My honour safe, which was so much in doubt, What matter is it how 'tis brought about? FOOTNOTES: [67] At cards. From _pinta_, a spot or mark.--_Sp._ Although _Pintas_ mean _cards_ generally, yet the word is applied to a particular game in Spain, which we call _Basset_.--_Collier._ [68] _Much_ was omitted by previous editors.--_Collier._ ACT V. +Scene.+--_+Don Carlos's+ house._ _Enter +Diego+, +Flora+, and +Pedro+, accompanying the chair, groping as in the dark._ +Ped.+ Dame Flora and Signior Diego, go in there; and you, my friends, set down the chair, and let the lady out; go, there's money for you. I'll go fetch a candle. [_+Diego+ and +Flora+ go in, and the chair being set in the door, +Octavio+ goes out into the room: +Pedro+ claps to the door, and goes away._ _Enter +Don Octavio+, +Diego+, +Flora+, at another door._ +Don O.+ What! put in all alone here i' th' dark, [_Groping as in the dark._ And the door shut upon me! Diego! Flora! +Diego.+ Here am I, sir, and Mistress Flora too, Unless my sense of feeling fails me. +Don O.+ I can't conjecture where we are. I durst not So much as peep out of the chair since Flora Gave me the warning; but, where'er I am, 'Tis better far than in the sergeants' hands. +Flo.+ Though now i' th' dark, I know well where we are. I have too often walk'd the streets, Octavio, From your house hither, upon Cupid's errands, Not to know the back-door of Carlos his Apartment: 'tis there, I'm sure, w' are now. +Don O.+ Curse on thee, Flora! hadst thou lost thy wits, Not to let me know it sooner? +Diego.+ A gipsy told me by my palm, long since, A sour-fac'd damsel should be my undoing. +Flo.+ Suspend awhile your apprehensions, sir; You may escape before the candles come. The door was wont to open on this side; If not, I have another way in store. [_+Octavio+ goes to the door._ +Don O.+ Flora, I cannot make the lock go back. [_+Pedro+ unlocks it on the other side, and coming in with a candle, meets with +Octavio+, and starting back and stumbling, lets the candle fall, then running out again, double-locks the door._ +Diego.+ Nay then, i' faith, w' are fast: I heard him give The key a double turn. [_+Diego+ takes up the candle._ Here's a fair trial for your maiden breath! Flora, blow't in again; let's owe your mouth More light than yet your eyes could e'er impart. +Flo.+ Light's cast away on such an owl as you; But yet I'll try. [_+Flora+ blows the candle in._ +Diego.+ Thanks, gentle Flora, to your virgin puff; 'Tis a strong breath that can o'ercome a snuff. [_Aside._ But I had rather't had been let alone: If I must needs be kill'd, unless it were Behind my back, I'd have it i' th' dark; For I hate to be kill'd in my own presence. +Don O.+ What must we do, Flora I all my hope's in you. +Flo.+ W' have yet some room for hope. There's a back-stairs Beyond that inner chamber, which goes down Into the garden: if the door be open, As certainly it is, the way is easy. +Don O.+ Come, let's lose no time. Prythee, guide us, Flora. [_Exeunt._ _Scene changes to +Don Henrique's+ house. Enter +Don Henrique+._ +Don H.+ As well pleas'd as I am to find my honour Less desperate than I thought, I cannot rest Till I have drawn from Porcia a confession Of the whole truth before she goes to bed. She's in her chamber now, unless by new Enchantments carried thence. _As he is going towards +Porcia's+ chamber, enter +Don Carlos+ in haste._ +Don O.+ I can't imagine what should make Don Henrique Quit the corregidor's till we return'd: One of his servants tells me he's come home. O, here he is, Now shall I raise a storm Which (if we do not take a special care) Will scarce b' allay'd without a shower of blood; Yet I must venture't, since it so imports Our friendship and the honour of our house. [_Aside._ Happiness is such a stranger to mankind [_Addressing to +Don Henrique+._ That, like to forc'd motion, it is ever strongest At the first setting out; then languishing With time, grows weary of our company: But to misfortunes we so subject are, That, like to natural motion, they acquire More force in their progression. +Don H.+ What means this philosophical preamble? +Don C.+ You'll know too soon, I fear. +Don H.+ Don Carlos, I am so well recover'd From all m' inquietudes, that for the future I dare defy the malice of my stars To cause a new relapse into distemper. +Don C.+ Cousin, I'm much surpris'd with this great change: But since y' are such a master of your passions, I'll spare my ethics, and proceed to give you In short the narrative of our success. Our worthy kinsman the corregidor, Forward to serve you in th' affair I mention'd, Was pleas'd to go along with me in person With a strong band of sergeants to the place Where I, attended by your servants, led him. Cousin, 'twas there;--it wounds my heart to speak it, And I conjure you summon all your patience-- 'Twas there I found---- +Don H.+ Whom, cousin, did you find? for since I'm sure You found no Porcia there, my concernments In your discoveries are not very likely To discompose me. +Don C.+ I would to heaven we had not found her there! +Don H.+ What's that you say, Don Carlos? My sister there? +Don C.+ Yes, sir, your sister. +Don H.+ My sister? that's good, i' faith; ha, ha, ha! +Don C.+ Why do you laugh! Is the dishonour of Our family becoming a laughing matter? This is a worse extreme, methinks, than t'other. +Don H.+ How can I choose but laugh, to see you dream? Awake, for heaven's sake, and recall your senses. Porcia there, said you? +Don C.+ Yes, sir, Porcia, I say; your sister Porcia; And, which is more, 'twas in Octavio's house. +Don H.+ Why, sure, y' are not in earnest, cousin? +Don C.+ As sure as y' are alive, I found her there. +Don H.+ Then you transport me, sir, beyond all patience. Why, cousin, if she has been still at home, Antonio seen and entertain'd her here, Accompani'd by Camilla; if even now I left them there within, is't possible You should have found her in Octavio's house? To be here and there too at the same time! None, sure, but Janus with his double face Can e'er unfold this mystery. +Don C.+ Let me advise you, abuse not yourself; I tell you positive'y, I found her there: And, by the same token, her waiting-woman Flora was there attending her. +Don H.+ Flora! Dear cousin, do not still persist Thus to affirm impossibilities. +Don C.+ Sure, you are making some experiment Upon my temper, and would fain provoke My patience to some such high disorder, That I should ne'er hereafter have the face, When you are in your fits, to play the stoic. +Don H.+ Cousin, I swear to you upon my honour, 'Tis not above a quarter of an hour Since I did speak with Porcia and your sister In that very apartment, and am now Returning to them in my sister's chamber. +Don C.+ And, sir, I swear to you upon my honour, 'Tis not above a quarter of an hour, Since I left Porcia carrying in a chair From Don Octavio's house, and your man Pedro Leading the chairmen to mine, and follow'd By Flora; whilst I came to find you out, To acquaint you with this unpleasing news, But fit for you to know as soon as might be. +Don H.+ This question, cousin, may be soon decided: Pray, come along, her chamber's not far off. +Don C.+ And my house but the next door; let's go thither. +Don H.+ You'll quickly find your error, cousin. +Don C.+ And you'll as soon be undeceiv'd. But stay: Here comes your servant, whom I left to guard her: He'll instantly convince you of the truth. _Enter +Pedro+._ +Ped.+ O sir!---- +Don H.+ What brings yon hither, Pedro? +Ped.+ Give me my albricias,[69] sir; I bring you The rarest news: your enemy Octavio-- I'm quite out of breath---- +Don H.+ What does the varlet mean? +Ped.+ Sir, I suppose Don Carlos has inform'd you That he left me to see your sister Porcia, With Flora and Diego, Oetavio's man, Safely convey'd t' his house. +Don C.+ See now, Don Henrique: who was i' the right! +Ped.+ I did as he commanded me, and put them All three into Don Carlos's antechamber, Porcia in the same chair which brought her thither, And for more safety, double-lock'd the door, Whilst I went down in haste to fetch some candles. +Don H.+ As sure as death, this madness is infectious; My man is now in one of Carlos's fits. +Ped.+ Returning with some lights a moment after, I no sooner open'd the door, but, heavens! Who should I see there, standing just before me, In the selfsame place where I had left Porcia, But Octavio, your enemy Octavio. +Don H.+ Here is some witchcraft, sure. What can this mean? +Ped.+ Amaz'd at this sight, I let the candle fall, And clapp'd the door to; then double-lock'd it, And brought away the key. +Don C.+ But how could he get in, if you be sure You lock'd the door when you went out for lights? +Ped.+ I know not whether he was there before, Or got in after; but of this I'm sure, That there I have him now, and safe enough. +Don H.+ Let's not, Don Carlos, now perplex ourselves With needless circumstances, when and how; Those queries are too phlegmatic for me: If the beast be i' th' toil, it is enough; Let us go seize him, for he must die. _Enter +Don Antonio+._ +Don A.+ Pray, brother, what unhappy man is he Whom you so positively doom to death? I have a sword to serve you on all occasions Worthy of you and me. +Don H.+ His intervening, Carlos, is unlucky. How shall we behave ourselves towards him In this business, so unfit for his knowledge? +Don C.+ Cousin, you should consider with yourself [_+Carlos+ draws +Henrique+ aside._ What answer to return him: he's not a man To be put off with any slight pretences; Nor yet to be engag'd in such an action As bears th' appearance rather of brutality Than true honour. You know Antonio needs No fresh occasions to support his name. Who danger seek, are indigent of fame. +Don H.+ I beg your patience, sir, but for one word With this gentleman my friend. [_+Don Henrique+ addresses himself to +Don Antonio+._ +Don A.+ I'll attend your leisure. I find my coming has disorder'd 'em, [_Aside._ There's something they would fain conceal from me: All here is discompos'd, whate'er's the matter. +Don H.+ I am a rogue, if I know what to do. +Don C.+ Since the event's so dangerous and doubtful, 'Tis best, in my opinion, sir, to temporise. +Don H.+ How easily men get the name of wise! To fear t' engage, is call'd to temporise: Sure, fear and courage cannot be the same, Yet th' are confounded by a specious name; And I must tamely suffer, because fools Are rul'd by nice distinctions of the schools. How I hate such cold complexions! [_He stamps._ +Don C.+ Why so transported? as if vehemence Were for your passion an approv'd defence. +Don H.+ Who condemns passions, Nature he arraigns. +Don C.+ Th' are useful succours, when they serve in chains: But he who throws the bridle on their necks, From a good cause will produce ill effects. +Don H.+ Be th' effects what they will, I am resolv'd. I doubt not of your kind concurrence, sir, [_Addressing to +Don Antonio+._ In all the near concernments of a person Allied to you as I am; but, noble brother, It were against the laws of hospitality And civil breeding to engage a guest (Newly arriv'd after so long a journey) In an occasion where there may be danger. +Don A.+ If such be the occasion, I must then Acquaint you freely, that I wear a sword, Which must not be excluded from your service. I'm sure you are too noble to employ yours In any cause not justifi'd by honour. +Don H.+ Though with regret, I see, sir, I must yield To your excess of generosity, This only I shall say to satisfy Your just reflections, that my resentments Are grounded on affronts of such a nature That, as nothing but the offender's life Can e'er repair 'em, so, as to the forms Of taking my revenge, they can't admit Of the least scruple. +Don A.+ Honour's my standard, and 'tis true that I Had rather fall, than blush for victory; But you are such a judge of honour's laws, That 'twere injurious to suspect your cause. Allow me, sir, th' honour to lead the way. [_Exeunt +Don Antonio+ and +Don Henrique+._ +Don C.+ If Porcia be there too (as I believe) 'Twill prove, I fear, a fatal tragedy; But should she not be there, yet 'tis too much For such a heart as mine, through ignorance To have betray'd a gentleman, though faulty, Into such cruel hands. I must go with them; But so resolv'd as, in this bloody strife, I'll salve my honour, or I'll lose my life. [_Exit._ _Scene changes to +Don Carlos's+ house. Enter +Don Octavio+, +Diego+, and +Flora+ with a candle._ +Flo.+ O th' unluckiness! I vow t' you, sir, I have scarce known that door e'er lock'd before. +Don O.+ There's no remedy, Flora: I am now At the mercy of my enemies. +Diego.+ Having broken into another's ground, 'Tis just, i' faith, you should be put i' th' pound. +Don O.+ The tide of my ill fate is swoll'n so high, 'Twill not admit increase of misery; Since, amongst all the curses, there is none So wounds the spirit as privation: For 'tis not where we lie, but whence we fell; The loss of heaven's the greatest pain in hell. When I had sail'd the doubtful course of love, Had safely gain'd my port, and (far above My hopes) the precious treasure had secured For which so many storms I had endur'd: To be so soon from this great blessing torn, That's hard to say, if 'twere first dead or born, May doubtless seem such a transcendent curse, That even the Fates themselves could do no worse: Yet this I bore with an erected face. Since fortune, not my fault, caus'd my disgrace; But now my eyes unto the earth are bent, Conscious of meriting this punishment: For trusting a fond maid's officious care, My life and honour's taken in this snare; And thus I perish on this unseen shelf, Pursu'd by fate, and false unto myself. Flora, when I am dead, I pray present [_He pulls out his tablets._ These tablets to your lady; there she'll find My last request, with reasons which I give, That for my sake she would vouchsafe to live. Give me the candle, Flora. [_+Octavio+ sets the candle on a table, and sits down to write in his tablets._ +Diego.+ A double curse upon all love in earnest, All constant love: 'tis still accompanied With strange disasters, or else ends in that Which is the worst of all disasters--marriage. +Flo.+ Sure, you could wish that everybody living Had such a soul of quicksilver as yours, That can fix nowhere. +Diego.+ Why' 'twould not be the worse for you, dear Flora; You then might hope in time to have your turn, As well as those who have much better faces. +Flo.+ You, I presume, sir, would be one o' th' latest, Which I should hear of; yet 'tis possible That one might see you before you should be Welcome. +Diego.+ She has wit and good-humour, excellent Ingredients to pass away the time; And I have kindness for her person too; But that will end with marriage, and possibly Her good-humour; for I have seldom known The husband and the wife make any music, Though when asunder they can play their parts. Well, friend Diego, I advise you to look Before you leap, for if you should be coupled To a yoke, instead of a yoke-fellow, 'Tis likely you may wear it to your grave. Yet, honest Diego, now I think on't better, Your dancing and your vaulting days are done: Faith, all your pleasures are three storeys high, They are come up to your mouth; you are now For ease and eating, the only joys of life; And there's no cook, no dry-nurse, like a wife. +Don O.+ Here, take my tablets, Flora: sure, they'll spare Thy life for thy sex's sake; but for poor Diego---- +Diego.+ Why, sir, they'll never offer to kill me? There's nothing in the world I hate like death. +Don O.+ Since death's the passage to eternity, To be for ever happy we must die. +Diego.+ 'Tis very true; but most that die would live, If to themselves they could new leases give. +Don O.+ We must possess our souls with such indifference, As not to wish nor fear to part from hence. +Diego.+ The first I may pretend to, for I swear I do not wish to part: 'tis true, I fear. +Don O.+ Fear! why, death's only cruel when she flies, And will not deign to close the weeping eyes. +Diego.+ That is a cruelty I can forgive, For I confess I'm not afraid to live. +Don O.+ We shall still live, though 'tis by others' breath-- By our good fame, which is secur'd by death. +Diego.+ But we shall catch such colds, sir, under ground, That we shall never hear Fame's trumpet sound. +Don O.+ 'Tis but returning, when from hence we go, As rivers to their mother-ocean flow. +Diego.+ We know our names and channels whilst w' are here; W' are swallow'd in that dark abyss when there. +Don O.+ Engulf'd in endless joys and perfect rest, Unchangeable, i' th' centre of the bless'd. +Diego.+ Hark, I hear a noise-- [_The noise of the opening of a door. +Diego+ runs to the door, looks into the next room, then comes running to +Octavio+._ +Diego.+ O sir, w' are lost! I sea two female giants Coming most terribly upon us. +Don O.+ Away, you fearful fool---- _Enter +Camilla+ and +Porcia+, the one with a key, the other with a candle._ +Por.+ I'm confident nobody saw us pass From th' other house. +Cam.+ However, let us go through my brother's quarter, And open the back-door into the street; 'Tis good in all events t' have a retreat More ways than one. [_A door claps behind, and both look back._ +Por.+ O heavens, our passage is cut off! The wind has shut the door through which we came. +Cam.+ The accident's unlucky: 'tis a spring lock, That opens only on the other side. +Por.+ Let's on the faster, and make sure of th' other-- [_Seeing +Octavio+, she starts._ Octavio here! [_+Octavio+ hearing them, starts up._ +Don O.+ Porcia in this place! may I trust my senses, Or does my fancy form these chimeras? +Diego.+ Either we sleep, and dream extravagantly, Or else the fairies govern in this house. [_+Flora+ runs to +Porcia+._ +Flo.+ Ah, dearest mistress! you shall never make me Quit you so again. +Por.+ But can that be Octavio? +Don O.+ I was Octavio; but I am at present So much astonish'd, I am not myself. +Cam.+ What can the meaning of this vision be? [_+Don Octavio+ approaches +Porcia+._ +Don O.+ My dearest Porcia, how is't possible To find you in this place, my friend Antonio Having so generously undertaken Your protection? +Por.+ Did he not yours so too? and yet I find Octavio here, where he is more expos'd Than I to certain ruin. I am loth To say 'tis he who has betray'd us both. +Don O.+ Antonio false? It is impossible. +Diego.+ 'Tis but too evident. +Don O.+ Peace, slave! he is my noble friend, of noble blood, Whose fame's above the level of those tongues That bark by custom at the brightest virtues, As dogs do at the moon. +Por.+ How hard it is for virtue to suspect! Ah, Octavio! we have been both deceiv'd. This vile Antonio is the very man To whom my brother without my consent Or knowledge has contracted me in Flanders. +Don O.+ Antonio the man to whom you are contracted? Porcia the bride whom he is come to marry? +Por.+ The very same. +Don O.+ Why did you not acquaint me with it sooner? +Por.+ Alas! I have not seen you since I knew it; But those few hours such wonders have produc'd As exceed all belief, and ask more time Than your unsafe condition in this place Will allow me to make you comprehend it. +Cam.+ Cousin, I cannot blame your apprehensions, Nor your suspicion of Antonio's friendship; But I am so possess'd with the opinion Of his virtue, I shall as soon believe Impossibilities as his apostasy From honour. +Don O.+ What's her concernment in Antonio, Porcia? +Por.+ O, that's the strangest part of our sad story, And which requires most time to let you know it [_A blaze of light appears at the window, and a noise without._ See, Flora, at the window, what's that light And noise we hear. [_+Flora+ goes to the window._ +Flo.+ O madam, we are all undone! I see Henrique, Carlos, and their servants, with torches All coming hither; and, which is wonderful, Antonio leading them with his sword drawn. +Cam.+ Thou dream'st, distracted wench? Antonio false? It is impossible---- [_+Camilla+ runs to the window, and turning back, says_-- All she has said is in appearance true. There is some hidden mystery, which thus Abuses us; for I shall ne'er believe Antonio can transgress the rules of friendship. +Don O.+ Friendship's a specious name, made to deceive Those whose good-nature tempts them to believe: The traffic of good offices 'mongst friends Moves from ourselves, and in ourselves it ends: When competition brings us to the test, Then we find friendship is self-interest. +Por.+ Ye pow'rs above! what pleasure can ye take To persecute submitting innocence? +Don O.+ Retire, dear Porcia, to that inner room: For should thy cruel brother find thee here, He's so revolted from humanity, He'll mingle thine with my impurer blood. +Por.+ That were a kind of contract. Let him come, We'll meet at once marriage and martyrdom. +Don O.+ Soul of my life, retire. +Por.+ I will not leave you. +Don O.+ Thou preserv'st me by saving of thyself: For they can murder only half of me, Whilst that my better part survives in thee. +Por.+ I will die too, Octavio, to maintain That different causes form the same effects: 'Tis courage in you men, love in our sex. +Don O.+ Though souls no sexes have, when w' are above, If we can know each other, we may love. +Por.+ I'll meet you there above: here take my word. [_+Don Octavio+ takes her hand and kisses it._ This Porcia knows the way of joining souls, As well as th' other, when she swallow'd coals. [_They retire to the other room, +Porcia+ leaning on +Camilla+, and +Octavio+ waits on them to the door._ +Diego.+ Nay, if y' are good at that, the devil take The hindmost. 'Tis for your sake, fair Flora, [_Taking +Flora+ by the hand._ I shun these honourable occasions. Having no weapon, sir, 'tis fit that I March off with the baggage. [_Turning to +Don Octavio+. Exeunt +Diego+ and +Flora+._ +Don O.+ I'm now upon the frontiers of this life, There's but one step to immortality; And, since my cruel fortune has allow'd me No other witness of my tragic end But a false friend and barbarous enemy, I'll leave my genius to inform the world My life and death was uniform: as I Liv'd firm to love and honour, so I die. [_Draws his sword._ Look down, ye spirits above; for if there be A sight on earth worthy of you to see, 'Tis a brave man, pursu'd by unjust hate, Bravely contending with his adverse fate. [_Waving his sword._ Stay till this heaven-born soul puts off her earth, And she'll attend ye to her place of birth. _Enter +Don Antonio+, +Don Henrique+, +Don Carlos+, and +Pedro+, their swords drawn; +Don Antonio+ before the rest._ +Don A.+ Where is the man whose insolence and folly Has so misled him to affront my friend? +Don O.+ Here is the man thou seek'st, and he whom thou So basely hast betray'd. +Don A.+ O heavens! what is't I see? It is Octavio, My friend. +Don O.+ Not thy friend, Antonio, but 'tis Octavio, Who by thy perfidy has been betray'd To this forlorn condition; but, vile man, Thou now shalt pay thy treachery with thy life. [_+Don Octavio+ makes at +Don Antonio+._ +Don A.+ Hold, Octavio! though thy injurious error May transport thee, it shall not me, beyond The bounds of honour. Heaven knows I thought Of nothing less than what I find--Octavio In this place. +Don H.+ What pause is this, Antonio? All your fervour In the concernments of a brother-in-law Reduc'd to a tame parley with our enemy? Do all the promises you have made to me, T' assist my just revenge, conclude in this? +Don O.+ Do all the promises you have made to me, T' assist my virtuous love, conclude in this? +Don H.+ Where is your wonted bravery? Where your kindness to such a near ally? +Don O.+ Where is your former honour? where your firmness To such an ancient friend? +Don A.+ What course shall my distracted honour steer, Betwixt these equal opposite engagements? [_Aside._ +Don H.+ What, demur still? nay, then I'll right myself. [_+Don Henrique+ makes at +Don Octavio+; +Don Antonio+ turns on +Don Octavio's+ side._ +Don A.+ Who attacks Octavio must pass through me. +Don C.+ I must lay hold on this occasion. [_Aside._ Good cousin, I conjure you to restrain Your passion for awhile. There lies conceal'd Some mystery in this which, once unfolded, May reconcile this difference. +Don H.+ Sweetly propos'd, sir; an accommodation! Think'st thou my anger's like a fire of straw, Only to blaze and then expire in smoke? Think'st thou I can forget my name and nation, And barter for revenge, when honour bleeds? His life must pay this insolence, or mine. [_He makes at +Don Octavio+ again; +Don Antonio+ interposes._ +Don A.+ Mine must protect his, or else perish with him. +Don H.+ Since neither faith nor friendship can prevail, 'Tis time to try what proof you are, Antonio, Against your own near interest. Know that the man, Whom you protect against my just revenge, Has seconded his insolence to me By foul attempts upon my sister's honour, Your Porcia's, sir. If this will not inflame you---- [_+Don Antonio+ turns from +Don Octavio+ and beholds him with a stern countenance._ +Don O.+ How! I attempt your sister's honour, Henrique? [_+Don Antonio+ turns and looks sternly upon +Don Henrique+._ The parent of your black designs, the devil, Did ne'er invent a more malicious falsehood; 'Tis true that I have serv'd the virtuous Porcia With such devotion and such spotless love, That, though unworthy, yet she has been pleas'd To recompense my passion with esteem; [_+Don Antonio+ turns and looks sternly upon +Don Octavio+._ By which she has so chain'd me to her service, That here I vow either to live her prize, Or else in death to fall love's sacrifice. +Don A.+ O heavens! what's that I hear? Thou blessed angel, Guardian of my honour, I now implore Thy powerful assistance, to preserve That reputation which I hitherto By virtuous actions have maintain'd unblemish'd. In vain, Don Henrique, you design to change [_He pauses a little, and rubs his forehead._ My resolutions: it must ne'er be said That passion could return Antonio From the strict rules of honour. Sir, I tell you, Nothing can make me violate my first Engagement. +Don H.+ Nay, then, thou shalt die too, perfidious man. Ho! Geraldo, Pedro, Leonido! _Enter +Geraldo+, +Pedro+, and +Leonido+, with their swords drawn; they join with +Don Henrique+; +Don Carlos+ interposes._ +Don C.+ For heaven's sake, cousin, draw not on yourself The horrid infamy of assassinating Persons of noble blood by servile hands! +Don H.+ Do you defend them too? Kill 'em, I say. +Don A.+ Retire, Octavio, I'll sustain their shock. +Don O.+ Octavio retire! +Don A.+ Trust me, you must, they will surround us else; Through that narrow passage they'll assail us With less advantage. [_They retire, fighting, off the stage, +Don Henrique+ and his men pursuing them, and +Don Carlos+ endeavouring to stop +Don Henrique.+_ +Don H.+ What, d'ye give back, ye mighty men of fame? +Don A.+ Don Henrique, you shall quickly find 'tis honour, Not fear, makes me retire. [_Exeunt._ _Enter presently +Don Antonio+ and +Don Octavio+ at another door, which +Don Antonio+ bolts._ +Don A.+ Now we shall have a breathing while at least, Octavio, and time to look about us. Pray, see yon other door be fast. [_+Don Octavio+ steps to the door where they went out, and +Don Henrique+ bounces at the door they came in at._ +Don H.+ Geraldo, fetch an iron bar to force The door. [_Within, aloud. +Don Antonio+ goes to both the doors, to see if they be fast._ +Don A.+ So, 'tis now as I could wish it. +Don O.+ What do you mean, generous Antonio? +Don A.+ To kill thee now myself:--having perform'd What my engagement did exact from me In your defence 'gainst others, my love now Requires its dues, as honour has had his. There's no protection for you from my sword But in your own, or in your frank renouncing All claim to Porcia; she is so much mine, That none must breathe and have the vanity Of a pretension to her whilst I live. +Don O.+ I never will renounce my claims to Porcia, But still assert them by all noble ways: Yet, sir, this hand shall never use a sword (Without the last compulsion) 'gainst that man Who has so much oblig'd me. No, Antonio, You are securely guarded by the favours Which you so frankly have conferr'd upon me. +Don A.+ Pray, sir, let not your pretended gratitude Enervate your defence: 'tis not my custom To serve my friends with prospects of return. +Don O.+ And, sir, 'tis not my custom to receive An obligation, but with a purpose, And within the power of my return. Friendship, Antonio, is reciprocal. He that will only give, and not receive, Enslaves the person whom he would relieve. +Don A.+ Your rule is right; but you apply it wrong. It was Octavio, my camerade in arms And ancient friend, whom I design'd to serve; Not that disloyal man who has invaded My honour and my love. 'Tis the intent Which forms the obligation, not th' event. +Don O.+ I call those pow'rs, which both discern and punish, To witness for me that I never knew You e'er pretended to Don Henrique's sister, Before I came within these fatal walls: This I declare only to clear myself From th' imputation of disloyalty, And to prevent the progress of your error. +Don A.+ How can I think you should speak truth to me Who am a witness y' have been false to her, To whom you now profess so high devotion? +Don O.+ I false to Porcia! take heed, Antonio, So foul an injury provokes too much. But, sir, I must confess I owe you more Than the forgiveness of one gross mistake. +Don A.+ Rare impudence! I must not trust my senses. +Don O.+ If we cannot adjust this competition, Let's charge our envious fortunes, not our passions, With this fatal breach of friendship. +Don A.+ Leave your discourses, and defend yourself; Either immediately renounce all claims To Porcia, or this must speak the rest. [_Shaking his sword._ +Don O.+ Nay, then I must reply. [_They fight. A noise, as if the door were broken open._ _Enter +Don Henrique+, +Don Carlos+, +Leonido+, and +Geraldo+, with their swords drawn._ +Don H.+ What's this! Antonio fighting with Octavio? This bravery is excessive, gallant friend, Not to allow a share in your revenge To him who's most concern'd: he must not fall Without some marks of mine. [_+Don Henrique+ makes at +Don Octavio+, and +Don Antonio+ turns to +Don Octavio's+ side._ +Don A.+ Nay, then my honour you invade anew, And, by assaulting him, revive in me My pre-engagements to protect and serve him Against all others. +Don H.+ Why, were not you, Antonio, fighting with him? Were you not doing all you could to kill him? +Don A.+ Henrique, 'tis true; but finding in my breast An equal strife 'twixt honour and revenge, I do, in just compliance with them both, Preserve him from your sword, to fall by mine. +Don C.+ Brave man, how nicely he does honour weigh! Justice herself holds not the scales more even. +Don H.+ My honour suffers more as yet than yours, And I must have a share in the revenge. +Don A.+ My honour, sir, is so sublim'd by love, 'Twill not admit comparison or rival. +Don H.+ Either he must renounce all claims to Porcia, Or die immediately. +Don A.+ Y' are i' the right: that he must do, or die; But by no other hand than mine. +Don O.+ Cease your contention, and turn all your swords Against this breast! whilst Porcia and I have breath, She must be mine, there's no divorce but death. +Don H.+ I'll hear no more, protect him if thou canst: Kill the slave, kill him, I say! [_+Don Henrique+ makes at him, and +Don Carlos+ endeavours to interpose._ +Don C.+ For heaven's sake, hold a moment! certainly There's some mistake lies hidden here, which (clear'd) Might hinder these extremes. [_+Don Henrique+ and his servants press +Don Antonio+ and +Don Octavio+. +Flora+ peeps out, and, seeing them fight, cries out_ Camilla! Porcia! _+Camilla+ and +Porcia+ looking out, both shriek, and then run out upon the stage._ _Enter +Porcia+ and +Camilla+ from the inner room._ +Por.+ Don Henrique! +Cam.+ Antonio! Carlos! +Por.+ Octavio! _+Cam.+ and +Por.+ together_. Hear us but speak! hear us but speak! +Don H.+ By heavens, 'tis Porcia! why, how came she here? +Don C.+ Why, did not I tell you she was brought hither By my directions? you would not believe me. +Don H.+ But how then could Octavio come hither? +Don C.+ Nay, that heaven knows, you heard as well as I Your man's relation. +Don H.+ Ah, thou vile woman, that I could destroy Thy memory with thy life! [_He offers to run at +Porcia+: +Don Antonio+ interposes._ +Don A.+ Hold, sir, that must not be! +Don H.+ What, may not I do justice upon her Neither? +Don A.+ No, sir: although I have not yet the honour To know who this lady is, I have this night Engag'd myself both to secure and serve her. +Don C.+ He knows not Porcia. Who was i' the right, Don Henrique, you or I? +Don H.+ He not know Porcia! why, 'tis not an hour Since I saw him entertaining her at home, Sure w' are enchanted, and all we see's illusion. +Cam.+ Allow me, Henrique, to unspell these charms. Who is't, Octavio, you pretend to? speak. +Don O.+ You might have spar'd that question, madam: none Knows so well as you, 'tis Porcia I adore. +Don A.+ Porcia's my wife! disloyal man, thou diest. [_Offers to make at +Don Octavio+._ +Cam.+ Hold, sir! which is the Porcia you lay claim to? +Don A.+ Can you doubt of that? why, sure, you know too well The conquest that you made so long ago[70] Of my poor heart in Flanders. +Don C.+ Conquest! poor heart! Flanders! what can this mean? +Don H.+ New riddles every moment do arise, And mysteries are born of mysteries. +Don C.+ Sure, 'tis the pastime of the destinies To mock us for pretending to be wise. +Cam.+ Thanks be to heaven, our work draws near an end. Cousin, it belongs to you to finish it. +Por.+ To free you from that labyrinth, Antonio, In which a slight mistake, not rectifi'd, Involv'd us all, know the suppos'd Porcia, Whom you have lov'd, is the true Camilla. +Cam.+ And you, Don Henrique, know that Don Octavio Has always been your sister's faithful lover, And only feign'd a gallantry to me To hide his real passion for my cousin From your discerning eyes. +Don A.+ Generous Octavio! +Don O.+ Brave Antonio! how happy are we both. [_They embrace._ Both in our loves and friendships! +Don A.+ Ah, how the memory of our crosses pass'd Heightens our joys when we succeed at last! +Don O.+ Our pleasures in this world are always mix'd: 'Tis in the next where all our joys are fix'd. [_+Camilla+ takes +Don Antonio+ by the hand, and leads him to +Don Carlos+._ +Cam.+ This, my dear brother, is that brave commander To whom you owe your life and liberty; And I much more--the safety of my honour. +Don C.+ Is this that gallant leader who redeem'd us With so much valour from the enemy? +Cam.+ The very same. +Don C.+ Why did you not acquaint me with it sooner? 'Twas ill done, Camilla. +Cam.+ Alas! my dearest brother, gratitude, [_Drawing +Don Carlos+ aside._ Conspiring with the graces of his person, So soon possess'd him of my heart, that I, Asham'd of such a visionary love, Durst never trust my tongue with my own thoughts. +Don C.+ 'Tis enough. Here, sir, take from me her hand, [_Addressing to +Don Antonio+._ Whose heart your merit has long since made yours. [_+Don Antonio+ takes +Camilla's+ hand and kisses it._ +Don A.+ Sir, with your leave and hers, I seal the vows Of my eternal faith unto you both. +Don C.+ But let's take heed, Antonio, lest, whilst we Are joying in our mutual happiness, Don Henrique's scarcely yet composed distemper Revive not, and disorder us afresh: I like not his grim posture. +Don A.+ 'Tis well thought on; let's approach him. [+Don Octavio+, _holding +Porcia+ by the hand, advances towards +Don Henrique+._ +Don O.+ Here with respect we wait your confirmation Of that which seems to be decreed above, Though travers'd by unlucky accidents. This lady, your incomparable sister, Can witness that I never did invade Your passion for Camilla; and Pedro's death Happen'd by your mistaken jealousy. The causes of your hate being once remov'd, 'Tis just. Don Henrique, the effects should cease. +Don H.+ I shall consult my honour---- +Don C.+ You cannot take a better councillor In this case than your own and sister's honour; What, to secure them both, could have been wish'd Beyond what fate has of itself produc'd? +Don H.+ How hard it is to act upon constraint! That which I could have wish'd, I now would fly, Since 'tis obtruded by necessity. 'Tis fit that I consent, but yet I must Still seem displeas'd, that m' anger may seem just [_Aside._ +Don A.+ Noble Don Henrique, you may reckon me To be as truly yours by this alliance, As if a brother's name subsisted still. +Don H.+ Well, I must yield, I see, or worse will follow. [_Aside._ He is a fool who thinks by force or skill To turn the current of a woman's will: Since fair Camilla is Antonio's lot, I Porcia yield to Don Antonio's friend. Our strength and wisdom must submit to fate: Stripp'd of my love, I will put off my hate. Here take her hand, and may she make you, sir, [_+Don Henrique+ takes +Porcia+ by the hand, and gives her to +Don Octavio+._ Happier than she has done me. _+Diego+ and +Flora+ advance._ +Flo.+ Had e'er disorders such a rare come-off? Methinks 'twould make a fine plot for a play. +Diego.+ Faith, Flora, I should have the worst of that; For, by the laws of comedy, 'twould be My lot to marry you. +Don O.+ Well thought on, Diego, tho' 'tis spoke in jest: We cannot do a better thing in earnest Than to join these who seem to have been made For one another. What say'st thou to it, Flora? +Flo.+ Troth, I have had so many frights this night, That I am e'en afraid to lie alone. [_+Diego+ takes her by the hand._ +Diego.+ Give me thy hand, sweet Flora, 'tis a bargain, I promise thee, dear spouse, I'll do my best To make thee first repent this earnest jest. +Flo.+ You may mistake: we have a certain way, By going halves, to match your foulest play. +Don C.+ Since this last happy scene is in my house, You'll make collation with me, ere you part. _+Don A.+ and +Don O.+_ Agreed, agreed, agreed! +Don A.+ Thus end the strange Adventures of Five Hours, As sometimes blust'ring storms, in gentle showers.[71] [_Addressing to the Pit._ +Don O.+ Thus, noble gallants, after blust'ring lives, You'll end as we have done, in taking wives. +Diego.+ Hold, sirs, there's not an end as yet; for then Come your own brats and those of other men. +Don H.+ Besides the cares of th' honour of your race Which, as you know, is my accursed case. [_Addressing to the Boxes._ +Cam.+ You, ladies, whilst unmarried, tread on snares: Married, y' are cumber'd with domestic cares. +Por.+ If handsome, y' are by fools and fame attack'd; If ugly, then by your own envy rack'd. +Flo.+ We by unthrifty parents forc'd to serve, When fed are slaves, and when w' are free, we starve. +Don C.+ Which put together, we must needs confess, This world is not the scene of happiness. FOOTNOTES: [69] A reward or gratuity given to one that brings good news.--Stevens's "Spanish Dictionary." [70] All the copies have it _so long ago_, but Reed followed Dodsley in the absurd error of substituting _some days ago_.--_Collier._ [71] Here the play ended until the third edition which, as has been already noticed, varies materially from those that preceded it. The third edition also omits the original epilogues at the theatre and at court, which, as they are worth preserving, are now inserted in a note.--_Collier._ THE EPILOGUE. _+Diego+ comes stealing in, and is followed by +Henrique+, who stays at the door and listens._ +Diego.+ Come, gentlemen! Let the _Dons_ and _Monsieurs_ say what they will, For our parts, we are for _Old England_ still. Here's a fine Play indeed, to lay the scene In three houses of the same town, O mean! Why, we have several plays, where I defy The devil to tell where the scene does lie: Sometimes in _Greece_, and then they make a step To _Transylvania_, thence at one leap To _Greece_ again: this shows a ranging brain, Which scorns to be confined t' a town in _Spain._ _Then for the Plot._ The possible _Adventures of Five Hours_! A copious design! why, in some of ours Many of the adventures are impossible, Or, if to be achiev'd, no man can tell Within what time: this shows a rare invention, When the design's above your comprehension; Whilst here y' are treated with a romance-tale. And a plot cover'd with a _Spanish_ veil. _As for the Style._ It is as easy as a proclamation, As if the play were penn'd for the whole nation. None of those thund'ring lines, which used to crack Our breaths, and set your wits upon the rack. Who can admire this piece, or think it good? There's not one line but may be understood. _The Raillery._ As innocent as if't had pass'd the test Of a full synod: not one bawdy jest! Nor any of those words of double sense, Which make the ladies, to show their innocence, Look so demure, whilst by a simp'ring smile The gallant shows he understands the style. But here you have a piece so subtly writ, Men must have wit themselves to find the wit. Faith, that's too much; therefore by my consent, We'll damn the play. +Henrique.+ Think'st thou, impertinent, That these, who know the pangs of bringing forth [_Pointing to the Pit._ A living scene, should e'er destroy this birth? You ne'er can want such writers, who aspire To please the judges of that upper tier. The knowing are his peers, and for the rest Of the illiterate crowd (though finely dress'd), The author hopes he never gave them cause To think he'd waste his time for their applause. You then (most equal judges) freely give Your votes, whether this play should die or live. THE EPILOGUE AT COURT. We've pass'd the lords and commons, and are come At length, dread sir, to hear your final doom. 'Tis true your vassals, sir, may vote the laws. Their sanction comes from your divine applause. This shining circle then will all sit mute 'Till one pronounce from you _Le Roi le veut_.[72] [72] These are the words still used by ancient usage whenever the royal assent is given to any bill that has passed through both Houses of Parliament.--_Collier._ EPILOGUE. BY MR SMITH. Our poet, gentlemen, thought to steal away, Hoping those wretched rhymes, i' th' end o' th' play, Might serve for epilogue; for truly he Takes epilogues for arrant bribery. H' observes your poet in our modern plays, Humbly showeth, and then as humbly prays; So that it can't be said, what they have writ Was without fear, though often without wit. He trusts (as ye say papists do) to merit; Leaves you (like quakers) to be mov'd by th' spirit. But since that epilogues are so much in vogue, Take this as prologue to the epilogue. BY MR HARRIS. Some, as soon as th' enter, we wish 'em gone, Taking their visit as a visitation: Yet when they go, there are certain grimaces (Which in plain English, is but making faces) That we, for manners' sake, to all allow. The poet's parting; don't rise, but smile and bow; And's back being turn'd, ye may take the liberty To turn him, and all h' has writ to raillery. Now, as I shall be sav'd, were I as you, I'd make no bones on't--why, 'tis but his due. A fop! in this brave, licentious age, To bring his musty morals on the stage? Rhyme us to reason, and our lives redress In metre, as Druids did the savages? Affront the freeborn vices of the nation? And bring dull virtue into reputation? Virtue! would any man of common sense Pretend to't? why, virtue now is impudence; And such another modest play would blast Our new stage, and put your palates out of taste. We told him, Sir, 'tis whisper'd in the pit This may be common sense, but 'tis not wit; That has a flaming spirit, and stirs the blood That's bawdry, said he, if rightly understood; Which our late poets make their chiefest tasks, As if they writ only to th' vizard-masks. Nor that poetic rage, which hectors heaven, Your writer's style, like's temper, 's grown more even; And he's afraid to shock their tender ears. Whose God, say they, 's the fiction of their fears; Your moral's to no purpose. He replied, Some men talk'd idly just before they died, And yet we heard them with respect. 'Twas all he said. Well, we may count him now as good as dead; And since ghosts have left walking, if you please, We'll let our virtuous poet rest in peace. ALL MISTAKEN; OR, THE MAD COUPLE _EDITION._ _All Mistaken; Or The Mad Couple. A Comedy, Acted by His Majestyes Servants, at the Theatre Royal. Written by the Honorable James Howard, Esq.; London, Printed by H. Brugis, for James Magnes in Russel-street, neer the Piazza, in Covent-garden, 1672. 4º._ This play formed part of the collection as originally published by Dodsley in 1744, but was excluded from the second and third editions. In the copies of 1672 and 1744, the arrangement of the lines was found very irregular, and the metre correspondingly corrupt. In the present reprint the text has been, to a large extent, reconstructed. DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. +The Duke.+ +Ortellus+, _next of kin to the Duke; of an ambitious and treacherous nature._ +Arbatus+, _supposed brother to Artabella._ +Philidor+, _a mad kinsman of the Duke's, in love with Mirida._ +Zoranzo+, _the Duke's prisoner of war, in love with Amarissa._ +Pinguister+, } +Lean-man+, } _two ridiculous lovers of Mirida._ _Doctor to Pinguister._ _Tailor to Lean-man._ _Jailor._ _Servant to Philidor._ _Boy._ _Clown._ _Guard and attendances._ +Amphelia+, _in love with the Duke._ +Artabella+, _the Duke's sister, but taken for the sister of Arbatus._ +Mirida+, _Philador's mad mistress._ +Amarissa+, _in love with Zoranzo._ _Six Ladies._ _Three Nurses with children._ _Scene, Italy._ ALL MISTAKEN. ACT I., SCENE I. _Enter +Duke+ from war, in triumph, leading in his hand +Artabella+, a woman of that country from whence he came, with +Arbatus+ her brother, and +Zoranzo+ prisoner; and on the other side +Amphelia+, +Ortellus+, and Guard._ +Duke.+ Madam, I need not say y'are welcome to this Country, since 'tis mine. +Art.+ Sir, leaving my own for yours Speaks my belief of that, and all things else You say. +Duke.+ The same unto your worthy brother, Besides, my thanks to you, sir, for letting Your sister take this journey. +Arb.+ Your highness hath so nobly express'd Yourself unto my sister, that I Consented to her coming with you; so Highly I esteem'd your princely word, That I have let her trespass on the Bound of common modesty in this Adventure: for when this hasty judging World shall see you have brought a woman From her own country, and not your Wife, how soon will every tongue give her Another title! +Duke.+ Sir, my sudden actions shall prevent all Tongues or thoughts either to name or think her Anything but my duchess; therefore All that owe duty or respect to me, pay it To her. What, Amphelia, did you believe The world so barren of good faces, that Yours only does enrich it? or did you think It was men's fates only to doat on yours? Look on this lady, and you'll see your error; Mark well her face, and you will find In every line beauty sits empress there. These are the eyes, Amphelia, now, that dart Obedience through my heart; are not you vex'd To see I am no constant fool, and love You still? +Amph.+ Vexed at what? to see a man I hate Love another? a very great vexation! Know, sir, this breast has only room for joy And love to brave Ortellus-- Forgive my heart that 'twas not yours before, Since you have long deserv'd it. +Ort.+ Madam, no time was long enough to wait This blessed hour. +Amph.+ Alas, great duke! instead Of pining for your change, you find me midst A thousand joys in this new choice. +Duke.+ So you do me, Amphelia, amidst Ten thousand; not all the glories that Attend a conquering soldier can create One joy so great in me, As being conquer'd here in my own triumphs. I am but a slave; Nor does my victory over thousands please Me so much, as being overcome by One--by this fair one, whose eyes, by shining On my triumph only, make it glorious. +Amph.+ Well, sir, we will not change our happy states; You cannot brag of happiness so great To make me envy: I am only sorry for This lady, that had nothing else to do With her heart but to give it you. Madam, If your breast had been crowded with some twenty Or thirty hearts, and amongst these one very Ill, you might have Made present of that to this mighty duke. +Duke.+ Madam, does not this lady's discourse make you Afraid of me. +Art.+ Not in the least, sir. +Duke.+ Where's this bold prisoner? +Guard.+ Here, and [it] please your highness. +Duke.+ Well, sir, tho' you did attempt to kill me In our camp, after you were our prisoner, You shall not die, since you are of the same Country this lady is; therefore thank her And fortune for your life. +Zor.+ I'd sooner curse them both. Shall I thank any for my life, but heaven That gave it me? I'd rather give it to A cat. A noble death were far more welcome To me, than a mean life at second hand. My being here I owe unto the gods. When they think fit to lend it me no longer, They know the way to take it from me. I scorn To run in debt unto a mortal duke for two Or three days' breath. +Amph.+ Brave captive! [_Aside._ +Duke.+ You're Very high, considering you are in chains. +Zor.+ Why, sir, think you these fetters can confine My mind as they do my legs, or that my Tongue is your prisoner, and dares only say: May it please your highness? How much are you Mistaken? Know, sir, my soul is Prompter to my tongue, and gives it courage to say Anything that heaven will not frown at. We Should detract from those great pow'rs above, If we pay fears to any here below. Perhaps you think I'll beg my life now upon A pair of bent petitioning knees? No, sir; Had I a hundred lives, I'd give them all To sharpest deaths, rather than beg for one. +Duke.+ You're well resolv'd; perhaps your mind may alter, When you see the axe. In the meantime commit him To the closest prison where, if you have any Accounts with heaven, you will have time to cast Them up before your death. +Zor.+ Your sentence brings me Joy. Welcome the keenest axe that can be set! 'Twill cut my head and chains both off together. Welcome, most happy stroke, since it will bring Rest to my eyes, and make a slave a king. [_Exit with a Guard._ +Duke.+ Madam, I suppose this journey has so wearied You, that it is time to show you the way To your lodgings, and leave you to your Repose. +Guard.+ Make way there for the duke! +Amph.+ My lord, you had best attend the duke, because 'Tis a respect due to him. +Ort.+ I shall, madam, At your command. [_Exeunt._ +Amph.+ How has my tongue belied my too true heart, In speaking hate unto The duke, and love to Ortellus! I hate the duke? So eyes do sleep, that long have known no rest. How could my lips give passage to such words, And not have clos'd for ever? Not by my heart's direction, I am sure; for that So swell'd, being injured by my mouth, as, had Not pride and reason kept it here from this Unquiet feat, it would have forc'd away To Archimedes' breast, and there have whisper'd to His heart my tongue's untruth. Why should I love This man, that shows me nothing but contempt And hate? Rouse, drooping heart, and think Of that; think of it always, so by degrees 'Twill bring a winter round thee, that in time Shall chill the heat of thy undone and lost Affections. O, it is not true that all Our sex love change, then I might find one path That leads to it; That womanish vice were virtue now in me, 'Twould free my heart, and that were charity. _Enter +Duke+._ See, where he comes again; O, how I love And hate that man! Now help me, pride, and fill My breast with scorn; and pr'ythee, tongue, take heed You do not falter: hear not, my heart, that will Distract thy speech, and so betray my feign'd Unkindness. +Duke.+ What, Amphelia all alone? Weary of your new love already? can't You pass away the time with him one hour? +Amph.+ Were he No finer man than yourself, to be with him A minute, I should think a Seven years' penance. Good heart, lie still, and let my tongue alone. [_Aside._ I wonder what a woman can see in you, Or hear from you, to make her love you. (I was just going to have said, hate him.) [_Aside._ O, what a task is this! therefore let me Advise you to have a mean opinion Of yourself. +Duke.+ Methinks that advice might serve For yourself. Ha, ha, ha! +Amph.+ Have patience, heart, I know I lie: thou need'st Not tell me so--I had better then confess My love. [_Aside._] Do you laugh, duke? [i']faith So could I at you, till the tears ran down My cheeks--that they would quickly do, for grief Would fain unload my eyes. I must begone, I cannot longer act this part, unless I had a heart as hard as his. [_Aside._ +Duke.+ What, you are going Now to your love Ortellus? +Amph.+ I am so, And going from you to him, is pleasure double, Not only pain, to quit, but joy to meet. +Duke.+ Make haste then, for your departure will oblige Me too, so we shall be all pleas'd! +Amph.+ Haste I will make, but with unwilling feet: For every step from him my grief repeats. [_Aside. Exit._ +Duke.+ She's gone, and after her my heart is flown, 'Tis well it has no tongue to make its moan; Then 'twould discover what my pride conceals, A heart in love (though slighted) love reveals. Yet though I love her still, she shall not know; Her hate shall seem my joy, which is my woe. My constancy I'll outwardly disguise, Though here within I am not half so wise. Yet rather than disclose my doating fate, I'll wound my heart by counterfeiting hate. To whine, it wou'd the worst of follies prove, Since women only pity when they love. With how much scorn she gave me welcome home, Ortellus in her hand, to show my doom! Me and my triumphs she did so despise, As if they'd been unworthy of her eyes. 'Tis well to her I show'd as much disdain; I'd rather perish than she guess my pain. But O, the horrid act she makes me do, To fool a woman that is young and true! So damn'd a sin, that hell could not invent, It is too foul for any punishment; To question those above I am afraid, Else I would ask them, why they woman made. _Enter +Philidor+._ O my mad cousin, your servant. Whither so fast? +Phil.+ So fast, sir? why, I have been hunted by a pack of hounds This three hours, And damn'd deep-mouth'd hounds too, [sir] no less than Three couple of nurses, three couple Of plaguy hunting bitches, and with them Three couple of whelps, alias children, sir. They have rung me such a ring this morning Through every by-turning that leads to a bawdy House, I wish'd myself earth'd a thousand Times, as a fox does when he is hard-run, But that they wou'd have presently digged me Out with their tongues. +Duke.+ Faith, Philidor, 'Tis no news to me; for I have known thee From sixteen at this course of life. What, and these Children were all your bastards, and your nurses Coming to dun you for money? +Phil.+ Something of that's in it, I think, sir. +Duke.+ Well, coz, I'll leave thee to thy wildness; a fitter Companion much for thee than I at this time. +Phil.+ Why, sir, I hope nothing has happened To trouble you? +Duke.+ No, no; My grief, alas! is far beyond express; To tell it to a friend can't make it less. [_Exit._ +Phil.+ Wou'd I were at the wars again: I fear No sword half so much as the tongue of one Of these nurses; and the youling of th' children Are more dismal to my ears than the groans Of dying men in a battle. I am At this time in law with six or seven Parishes about fath'ring of bastards; Tis very fine truly! and yet me thinks 'Tis a hard case that I should be sued for Multiplying the world, Since death makes bold with bastards, As well as other children. The very picture Of a nurse and child in her arms wou'd fright Me now. O, from that sight deliver me! _Enter Nurse and Child as he is going out._ Ha! and here they come: pox on't, what luck have I after saying my prayers? it shall be a Fair warning to me; now am I started Again, and must go run t'other course. [_Offers to run away._ +1st Nurse.+ 'Squire Philidor, 'Squire Philidor! [_She runs after him._ +Phil.+ How deaf Am I now! 'tis well I know this by-way To avoid her. _Enter Second Nurse and meets him._ Ha! S'death, another? The devil appearing here too? +2d Nurse.+ O my proper Young 'squire, stay, stay, d'ye hear, sir? +Phil.+ No, indeed, won't I. Yet I know one way More to avoid them. _Enter Third Nurse._ Ha! another coming Here too? Nay then, I find I am in hell, Before I thought I shou'd. What will become Of me now? +3d Nurse.+ O 'squire, I thought I should Never have spoken with your worship. +Phil.+ No, by this Light, shou'd you not, if I could have holp it. [_Aside._ +1st Nurse.+ I wonder, 'squire, at your conscience, t'avoid Your pretty babes as you do. +Phil.+ So, now it Begins, I am like to have sweet music From the comfort of these nurses' tongues. +1st Nurse.+ Saving your presence, sir, I think here are Three as sweet babes as ever sucked teat, And all born within the year too, besides Three more that your worship has in our street. +Phil.+ A very hopeful generation! sure, This was a great nut year![73] Well, if all trades fail, I may go Into some foreign plantation, where They want people, and be well paid for my Pains: wou'd I were there now! +1st Nurse.+ Codge, codge, Dos a laugh upon a dad? In conscience, sir, The child knows your worship. +Phil.+ A very great comfort! +1st Nurse.+ My young master here is as like your worship As e'er he can look; has your tempting eyes To a hair: I cou'd not choose but smile To myself t'other day; I was making him clean About the secrets, to see that[74] God had sent him In a plentiful manner; it put me half In mind of your worship. I am sure I Have been at double the expense of other Nurses, in eating choice meat, to make my Milk good for my young master, because I Would not spoil the growth of any one of his Members. +2d Nurse.+ Nay, for that, neighbour, I have ate As good, or better, meat than you, every day In the week: I never touch'd a bit of Salt meat, for fear of spoiling my child's blood. +Phil.+ Considering how well 'tis born. [_Aside._ +3d Nurse.+ Nay, neighbours, for that I have been at greater Charge than either of you, in choice diets, To breed good milk for my young mistress here. +1st Nurse.+ You lie. +2d Nurse.+ You are a quean. +1st Nurse.+ And you're a whore. Marry, your husband is the notedest Cuckold in all our street. +2d Nurse.+ You lie, you jade, Yours is a greater. +Phil.+ Hiss! Now for a battle Royal. +1st Nurse.+ If I lay the child out of my [_Lay their children down, and fight._ Arms, I'll pull off your head-clothes, you-- Carrion! +2d Nurse.+ Marry, come, if thou durst. +Phil.+ 'Tis best for me to be a coward, And march off from this bloody fight. +All Nurses.+ Hold, hold, the 'squire is going away. +Phil.+ So, nothing could have parted them this three Hours, but the fear of losing me. [_Aside._ +1st Nurse.+ What, wou'd Your worship have left us without paying us For nursing your children? you have a conscience, With a pox to you! +Phil.+ So, now will they end Their war in vollies of shot upon me. I have but one thing now to do. With ev'ry One of these hags have I been forc'd to lie, Which they took as satisfaction for payment For two months' nursing. Perhaps, rather Than they will have it known to one another, They'll hold their tongues and leave me? Well, my three sweet harmonious nurses, what is due to you? +1st Nurse.+ Due! why, there was twelve months Due for nursing; 'tis true, two months your squireship Satisfied me for. +2d Nurse.+ And me too. +3d Nurse.+ And me Likewise. +Phil.+ Harkye, if you will not be gone, I'll tell. +1st Nurse.+ No, marry, won't I, till I have My money. +2d Nurse.+ Don't think to fright me, but pay me. +3d Nurse.+ I fear you not; pay me my money. +Phil.+ Pox on't, 'twill not do, I must try another Way.--Boy, was the wolf fed to-day? +Boy.+ No, sir. +Phil.+ Go fetch him quickly, to dine with these ladies. [_Exeunt +Nurses+._ So! I thought I should set them going. He! The devil, they have left the children behind them. This was a very cunning device of mine. Now am I in a pretty condition. Troth, a Very noble Anabaptist progeny! For the devil a one of these were ever Christen'd; for I have run so much upon Tick to the parsons for christening of Children, that now they all refuse to make Any bastards of mine a Christian Without ready money; so that I'll have This boy bred up a parson, that he may Christen himself and the rest of his sisters And brothers. What shall I do, when these infants, Begin to be hungry, and youl for th' teat? O, that a milk-woman wou'd come by now! Well, I must remove my flock from hence. Small Coal, small coal, will you buy any small coal? Pox on it. I could never light of any But fruitful whores. Small coal, small coal! [_Exit._ FOOTNOTES: [73] [See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, 275.] [74] [Old copy, _what_.] ACT II. _Enter +Zoranzo+, as in prison._ +Zor.+ Sure, 'tis not kind of those great pow'rs above, To add these chains to me that am in love. As to my bed of straw, I am content, Since any bed from her is punishment. To lie on down of swans would be hard rest, Could I not make my pillow on her breast. O Amarissa, wert thou here with me, I would not sell these bonds for liberty. Ransoms that prisoners give to be set free, I'd give as much to lie in chains by thee. Here is her picture. O, thou too like shade, [_Pulls out her picture._ To look on it my eyes are half afraid, It so presents my joy and misery; Since 'tis the nothing of that all to me. The greatest pain to any lover's heart, Is to remember when they are apart; For thoughts of joys, when there's a bar betwixt, Are worse than poison with a cordial mix'd. _Enter +Amphelia+ and +Jailor+._ +Amph.+ Well said, jailor, here's for thy pains. Brave pris'ner, Perhaps this visit may appear but strange To you, till you have heard me speak--Know then, When you receiv'd the sentence of your death, you seem'd To meet it with so brave a soul, as if The sound had not displeas'd your ears. Thus did Your courage fill my eyes with wonder, and My heart with pity. Straight I resolv'd to give you all my helps To set you free, which now I offer to You. +Zor.+ Madam, could I tell you what to say I Wou'd begin; I have nothing but poor thanks To offer to you, and those, though millions, were Not half enough. Compassion shown unto The miserable heaven can only recompence; Therefore, in my dying prayers, I will beg from thence A blessing to reward your pity. +Amph.+ Sir, The joy of your escape will pay my pains; All my endeavours I will set at work: The time is short, therefore I must make haste. Expect to hear of me again with speed. _Enter +Ortellus+, as she is going out._ +Zor.+ What can this mean? heaven grant she does not Love me; I wou'd not wish so brave a heart So great a punishment, since my love's fix'd already. +Ort.+ Madam, I have been seeking you; pray, whence Came you? This is no usual place to find you In. +Amph.+ I was only walking this way, sir. +Ort.+ I'll wait on you presently.--I suspect She has been at the prison; I will inform Myself by the jailor; and yet perhaps She has bid him to deny it. [_Steps back to the Jailor._ The lady Amphelia says she has left one of Her gloves behind her in the prison, and Has sent me for it. +Jail.+ I'll go see straight, sir. +Ort.+ She has been there, it seems, then. Madam, I Fancy you have been to see the prison. +Amph.+ Who, I? What makes you think so? +Ort.+ Why, am I mistaken? +Amph.+ Yes; what should I do there? +Ort.+ Nay, that's the question, But there you have been just now, and with the Pris'ner too. +Amph.+ Sure, you dream. +Ort.+ She's false, I find: I'll try her love to me. [_Aside._ Madam, since you Have been pleased to show your kindness publicly To me, I take this time to beg my happiness, Which is, that a priest may join our hands. +Amph.+ I will not marry yet. +Ort.+ Why, pray, madam? +Amph.+ For a very good reason, because I ha'n't A mind to't. +Ort.+ Will you give me another reason? +Amph.+ I need not: that's sufficient. +Ort.+ You love me, do you not? +Amph.+ You know I have declar'd it. +Ort.+ But (sure) you'll not deny me twice? +Amph.+ Not, if you ask but once. +Ort.+ Fie, fie, this modesty's a thief to lovers, And robs them of their time. Come, come, Say aye, and blush. +Amph.+ I'll not say aye, nor blush. +Ort.+ If you had any modesty, you wou'd. +Amph.+ You said Just now I had too much. +Ort.+ Too much Of impudence, you mean. +Amph.+ What's that to say? +Ort.+ Why, truth. +Amph.+ Get you out, and wash your tongue: 'Tis foul. +Ort.+ 'Tis like you heart then, But that it cannot lie as much. +Amph.+ Most valiant lord, To give the lie to petticoats! +Ort.+ Why did you Deny your being in prison? +Amph.+ Not for fear of you; I was with the brave prisoner, What then? +Ort.+ You went to make love to him. You had best use your time well; 'twill Be short and sweet: your dear will not be so Proper a man by the head within this Two days. False woman! you've a heart that flies From one man's breast to another: all the Inconstancy of your sex is constancy To this of yours: you have deceived the duke Already; that might have been my warning. +Amph.+ Faith, and so It might; th' duke in all things so far excels You, that you were a fool to think, when once My heart bid him farewell, that it design'd No better a change than you. Troth, your mistaken; It had a farther journey to make, and so Took your breast for an inn only, to lie By the way. +Ort.+ Base woman! is't not enough that you Have fool'd me, but you must mock me too? Heaven Hold my hand from murdering thee! +Amph.+ Fright those that fear you. [_Exit._ +Ort.+ Curses of all fool'd men (like me) light heavy On thee! Revenge begins to fill my heart, And I will pour it out on this base woman. I know the way: I'll to the duke. _Enter +Duke+._ I am Glad I have met your highness, for I have Business to impart to you that concerns your life. +Duke.+ What is't, Ortellus? +Ort.+ Know, sir, Amphelia, that---- +Duke.+ Loves you? +Ort.+ No, sir, she loves The pris'ner. +Duke.+ 'Tis impossible. +Ort.+ 'Tis very true, sir, I caught her coming from him! she's designing His escape, and for aught I know, her love To him may put other thoughts into her head. +Duke.+ What d'ye mean? +Ort.+ She may design your life; A woman that is ill, exceeds a man In mischief. +Duke.+ My lord, I thank your care. If you Can track her farther, pray let me know; in the Meantime I shall prevent her ill intentions. +Ort.+ My diligence shall not be wanting. So, Since I can have no love, revenge shall be My mistress. [_Aside. Exit._ +Duke.+ O Amphelia! why dost Thou take such pains to break my heart, when 'tis So easily done? She needs not secretly Contrive my death, since half a word from her Commands my life: her face and heart (sure) can Not be akin; nature mistook, or else She was to blame to give one woman two So great extremes. _Enter +Arbatus+._ See, here comes the brother To wronged Artabella: th' horror of That sin grows bigger in me, That I with a deluding love should fool An innocent, to show an outward scorn To false Amphelia; for when I heard She lov'd Ortellus, I straight made love to this young Woman, and brought her from her own country, Only to make Amphelia think I lov'd Another. +Arb.+ I hope I don't disturb your highness. +Duke.+ No, Arbatus, you are always welcome To me. +Arb.+ Sir, I should ask you a question. +Duke.+ You freely may. +Arb.+ Not but I think my sister far unworthy, either In birth or fortune, to be call'd your wife; Yet since you have been pleas'd to grace her with Your love so far, as saying she shall be your Duchess, be pleas'd to tell me why it is Not so? she has been here so long, that people Now begin to say you mean her for your mistress; Should my ears meet that sound from any tongue, I'd---- +Duke.+ Hold, Arbatus, I'm sure I have given No cause as yet to doubt my kindness to Your sister. +Arb.+ Pardon me, sir, in your delay you have. My sister has no dowry but her virtue, Youth, and some small stock of beauty. These if You lov'd her for, you would not waste, By letting time rob her and you at once. +Duke.+ Sir, business of great importance has Hitherto deferr'd my marriage; believe Me, you shall find me just. +Arb.+ A prince's word Must not be question'd; I have done. +Duke.+ O Amphelia! what dost thou make me do? [_Exit._ +Arb.+ Let him take heed; if he does fool my sister, Were he ten thousand dukes, I'd cut his throat. [_Exit._ _Enter +Philidor+ alone._ +Phil.+ I have been quite at t'other end o'th' town, To put my children out to new nurses, For I am known to every nurse hereabout; That they will as soon nurse a cat's kitten As any child of mine. This is a very Pleasant life I lead, neither is this the Worst part of it; for there are a certain Flock of women that I have promis'd marriage, I expect a volley of shot from them too, Soon as they find me out. Would wives and children Were as hard to come by as money, then would I turn usurer, and let 'em out to use; For, to say truth, I have enough to spare. _Enter six +Ladies+, one after another._ So, here comes one of my promis'd Virgins! Nay, a second too--a third--a fourth--a fifth-- A sixth--Welcome, blessed half-dozen; now will I go Muster my nurses and children too, and go Against the Great Turk. I am glad to see They have brought ne'er a coffin, for I expect Nothing but death from them. I wonder they don't Begin to ring my funeral peal. See every One of them beckons to me, as much as to say, I'd speak with you in private; but the devil Take me if e'er a one of them do; I find By this they would not have their business known To one another; this may be a means for me To get off for this time--Ladies, you all Look as if you had something to say to Me; pray make me so happy as to let Me know what 'tis. They dare not speak aloud. [_Aside._] Will you, Madam? or you? or you, madam? or you, Madam? [What] not one of you tell me what The honour of these visits mean? I see I am troublesome to you all? therefore I'll not be longer rude; and so I take My leave--This was good luck, that they should come All together; for I had rather be [_Beckon him._ Alone six hours with the devil, than with E'er a one of them an half hour--I'll stand close In this corner till they are all gone. +1st Lady.+ Now the pox take him for a cunning rogue! +2d Lady.+ A plague take him! +3d Lady.+ The devil take him! +4th Lady.+ If there be e'er a devil worse than another, Take him thou! +5th Lady.+ O, that I had him alone! +6th Lady.+ Was there ever such a rascal? [_Exeunt at several doors._ +Phil.+ So the coast is clear again-- [_Peeps out._ _Enter +Mirida+._ S'death, here comes another--O, 'tis none Of that gang, though. +Mir.+ I'll lay my head, ne'er a girl in Christendom Of my age, can say what I can; I'm now But five years i'th' teens, and I have fool'd Five several men. +Phil.+ A brave wench, by this light! Sure, it is I in petticoats. +Mir.+ My humour Is to love no man, but to have as many Love me as they please, come cut or long tail. +Phil.+ A most divine wench! +Mir.+ 'Tis a rare diversion, to see what several Ways my flock of lovers have in being Ridiculous; some of them sigh so damnably, That 'tis as troublesome as a windy day. There's two of them that make their love together, By languishing eye-casts; one of them has One eye bigger than another, and looks Like a tumbler; and that eye's like a musket Bullet, and I expect every minute when he Will hit me with it, he aims so right at me. My other lover looks a-squint, and to See him cast languishing eyes, would make a Woman with child miscarry. There is also A very fat man, master Pinguister, and A very lean man that loves me; I tell the Fat man I cannot marry him till he's Leaner, and the lean man I cannot marry Him till he's fat: so one of them purges And runs heats every morning, to pull down His sides, and th' other makes his tailor stuff His clothes to make him show fatter. O, what Pleasure do I take in fooling of mankind! +Phil.+ Was there ever so witty a wench? 'tis the Woman of women for my turn. I'll to her-- Thou most renowned female! I cannot hold-- +Mir.+ From what? +Phil.+ From kissing thee, [from] loving thee, or what Thou wilt. +Mir.+ Troth, y'are very well acquainted, consid'ring You never saw me before! +Phil.+ Saw thee! I have Heard thee talk this hour, like an angel of light. +Mir.+ Well, d'ye love me for what you heard me say? +Phil.+ Yes, faith, do I; why, you are just of my Humour; when I heard thee say how many Men you had fool'd, I was very glad to hear You come one short of me, for I have fool'd Six women, and you but five men. +Mir.+ Why, If you love me, you will be the sixth fool, To make up my half dozen too. +Phil.+ No, I Won't, and yet I love thee too. +Mir.+ Why, how will You help it? +Phil.+ Thus: you and I Will love one another. +Mir.+ What, whether I will or no? +Phil.+ Nay, hear me, we two will love how we please, When we please, and as long as We please: do not These propositions tickle your heart a little? +Mir.+ I don't mislike them--Now could I take him About the neck and kiss him for this humour Of his. And do you say you will love me! [_Aside._ +Phil.+ Yes, marry, will I. +Mir.+ Nay, hold, I won't marry You. +Phil.+ Nor I thee, for all the world. +Mir.+ And yet You say you will love me? +Phil.+ I tell you I will: make no more words on it. +Mir.+ Why then, Hark you, to be as absolute as you, I will love you too, that is to say, Upon the aforesaid conditions. +Phil.+ With all my heart; prythee, don't think That I Will love thee upon any other terms. But come, We must seal this Bargain with hands, hearts, lips. +Mir.+ No, no; no lips; we will only shake hands Upon't, that's enough for so weighty a contract As this of ours. +Phil.+ But, prythee, let us seal The bargain. +Mir.+ No, no, sir, I use no wax To my lips. +Phil.+ Nay, by my troth, I care not A pin to kiss thee. +Mir.+ No? look upon me well, And see if you can say so again. +Phil.+ Hum--yes, Faith, I will give two-pence to kiss thee Now. +Mir.+ Well, sir, when I do kiss you, I'll 'bate you A penny of that. +Phil.+ Now you and I will sing this song. [_He sings._ _My love and I a bargain made, It is well worth a telling: When one was weary, we agreed To part, should both be willing._ +Mir.+ Nay, here I'm for you too. [_She sings._ _And thus our loves will longer last, Than fools that still are pining: We'll spend our time in joy and mirth, Whilst doaters do in whining._ +Phil.+ Faith, you and I sing very well; we are Alike in that too: I see either nature Or the devil, somebody or something, made Thee and me for one another. Well, But let us Remember our conditions: imprimis, I Will love you. +Mir.+ Item, so will I you. +Phil.+ I Will not say how long. +Mir.+ Item, nor I neither. +Phil.+ Item, it may be I can love you but A week. +Mir.+ I don't care if't be but a day. +Phil.+ I'll ne'er be tied to any thing. +Mir.+ Item, thou shalt be tied to what thou wilt But me. +Phil.+ Item, I will come when I please, And go when I please. +Mir.+ Item, thou shalt drown Thyself when thou wilt, or hang thyself when Thou wilt, or go to the devil when thou wilt. +Phil.+ Item, if I should like another woman, I Will have the liberty of leaving you, without Any ceremony, but just saying Good-bye. +Mir.+ Item, if I should like any Man better than you, I'll leave you without saying So much as good-bye. +Phil.+ Item, the first that Sighs of us two, shall fast a week. +Mir.+ Item, the first That looks but melancholy of us two, Shall be starv'd to death. +Phil.+ To conclude, we will Both be as mad as we please. +Mir.+ Agreed, And the devil take the tamest! +Phil.+ A bless'd bargain! But hark you, there's one thing I have forgot. +Mir.+ What's that? +Phil.+ Have you had as many children as I? +Mir.+ No, indeed, ha'nt I. +Phil.+ Why, then you must let me help you to 'em, That you may be even with me there too. +Mir.+ Hold, sir, that bargain's yet to make. +Phil.+ Pox on't! That should have been one of our articles. +Mir.+ Well, I can stay no longer with you now. +Phil.+ Nay, prythee, hold, thou shalt not go yet; I Can't part with you so soon. +Mir.+ Ay, but I have A mind to go, and that is one of our Articles. +Phil.+ Well, but shan't we put that other Article in, before we part? +Mir.+ No, no, good-bye to you. +Phil.+ Farewell, mettle-- [_Exit._ _Enter +Pinguister+, +Doctor+, and +Servants+._ +Mir.+ Look you, master Pinguister, this is the Measure must meet about your waist, before I marry you. +Pin.+ This? why it will not come About the small of my leg. [_Tries the measure himself._ +Mir.+ Sir, I am sorrier For it: but it must compass your middle before You can be my dear chuck: your servant, sir, I am in haste. +Pin.+ Prythee, thou damnable Pretty rogue, let me have some comfort from thee, Before thou goest, either from thy eyes, Thy cheeks, mouth, or nose, or some part about thee Consider what a dissolution I Must undergo for love of thee. +Mir.+ I do indeed, sir; but your servant for this time. [_Exit._ +Pin.+ Worthy doctor, my hopes are all in you now, I have tried many physicians already To make me lean enough for that Tormenting, pretty fairy devil. +Doctor.+ Truly, sir, your case is very desperate; But if any man in the world can drain Your fat from you, 'tis I: sir, we'll begin Your course out of hand. +Pin.+ Do you hear, be sure I have at least two dozen of napkins ready Upon the spot, to rub me at every turn; Therefore come you all along with me-- Have mercy on me, I have love and fat Enough to furnish a whole nation. [_Exeunt._ ACT III. _Enter +Amphelia+, going to the prison._ +Amph.+ How false a woman to all eyes I seem, Because I still will hide my constant love! This way I take will bravely break my heart, To tell the duke were sneakingly to die: Since, if he knew that I did love him still, With basest scorns he'd laugh my soul to death; Such friendship to this pris'ner I will show, Shall make the duke believe my heart is there. To set him free I'll use my utmost art----. Would I could do as much for this poor heart! This way my love with my designs complies, Thus one in chains another's chains unties. I have made the jailor mine already, By promising him these hundred pieces-- 'Tis now about the time I appointed To be here-- _Enter +Jailor+._ O, yonder's the jailor expecting me-- Here, jailor, here's for thy Honesty: may the business be done now? +Jailor.+ O madam, never at a fitter time; take you The key and go in to the prisoner; Whilst I go see the passage clear, Stand you at th' door, and when I beckon To you, come away. +Amph.+ Honest jailor? +Jailor.+ So, now I am just i' th' fashion; I have taken Money to do her business, and instead Of doing it I have undone it. _Enter +Duke+ and +Ortellus+._ +Ort.+ 'Tis so, sir. The jailor has discover'd all to me. Here He comes. +Jailor.+ And please your highness to stand close Here, for the lady Amphelia is now With the prisoner; I have given her a Key to convey him through this private passage; As soon as I beckon to her, she will come Away with him. [_Beckons her._ +Amph.+ Come, sir, give me your hand; The jailor beckons me; the way is clear. +Duke.+ Hold, lady, and your love, we must shorten Your journey a little. +Amph.+ Ha! the duke and Ortellus! I am betray'd! O villain jailor! +Ort.+ Sir, I fear we've interrupted them; it may be They were going to be married; ha, ha, ha! +Amph.+ If I were, 'twas what I refused you, Ortellus; that makes you so mad. +Duke.+ Well, madam, If you have a mind to be married, a priest Shall not join your hands, but you shall go both Back to the prison, and th' jailor shall tie you Both hands and legs together. +Amph.+ Know, sir, A prison with this brave gentleman Will be greater paradise to me, than to Be mistress of your palace. What do I say? [_Aside._ +Duke.+ Well you shall have your desire then; ye shall live Together, and die together. How could I speak that word to her? [_Aside._ +Zor.+ She die, sir! Wou'd you destroy so great a world of virtue? Rather invent two deaths for me, that I May die for her too. You'll rob Your dukedom of your greatest treasure to take Away so blest a life as hers: let not An axe part such a head and body, Lest heaven frown and call you murderer. You'll pull Upon your head all mankind's curse: when nature Sees her bounty thus rewarded, she will Turn miser, and will give no more such blessings To th' world as this fair saint. +Duke.+ Well, sir, I'm satisfied ye like one another, so you Shall both return back to your straw beds, there you May lie as close together as you please. +Amph.+ No, sir, virtue shall lie betwixt us. +Duke.+ You will want a pillow, till you come both To execution, then you shall have one-- A block to lay your heads on. +Amph.+ Know, [O] duke, My head will rest better with his upon a block, Than with yours on the softest pillow. How Many lies must I confess, before I die. [_Aside._ +Duke.+ Indeed, you'll sleep pretty soundly. See, her scorn To me makes death a pleasure to her. [_Aside._ My lord, give order that she may be brought Immediately to her trial; in the meantime, Jailor, take them into your custody; Lay 'em in shackles both. Cousin, many thanks To you for this timely discovery. I must leave you awhile. [_Exit._ +Ort.+ Duke, you shall have Less to thank me for, else I am deceiv'd. I've found out he loves Amphelia still, So she does him. Now will I go possess Arbatus of this, and tell him how the duke Intends to fool his sister. He has the Character of so strict a brother, and so brave A spirit, that his soul will never digest This injury without the duke's blood. Will join with him, and tell him how The business may be done. By this, one of these three things shall I have Either a mistress, dukedom, or a grave. _Enter +Arbatus+ and +Artabella+._ See, here comes Arbatus and his sister Artabella; they talk very earnestly. +Arb.+ Sister, I do not like it; the duke will Fool ye. +Art.+ Indeed, brother, I am amaz'd At this delay. +Arb.+ How does he carry himself To you? +Art.+ With all respect imaginable. +Arb.+ Then there must be something more in't, That he defers his marriage thus. +Ort.+ There is So, sir. +Arb.+ My lord, heark'ning's but a base office; But if you have heard it, 'tis no treason. +Ort.+ No, sir, but it is falseness in the duke, To use your worthy sister thus. I came To tell you upon my knowledge, he never Intended to marry her. +Arb.+ My lord, though I believe it, you must pardon Me, if I wonder at this information From your lordship, that is his near cousin. +Ort.+ Sir, you have the character of so brave A gentleman, conscience and honour Bids me discover this to you and your sister: Think of a way of being reveng'd, and here's My hand and heart to help you. +Arb.+ Pardon Me, that I cannot thank you truly, because I needs must doubt this offer from your lordship. +Ort.+ What can I say to confirm you? will the Word and honour of a gentleman do't? +Arb.+ To me those are things of great value. +Ort.+ Then here I give them both. +Arb.+ But what to do, my lord? +Ort.+ What you will. +Arb.+ Perhaps you think I'd have you Ask some place about the court for me, in Recompense of this injury to my sister? +Ort.+ No, sir, had you been such a person, I Should not have trusted you thus far with what I have said. I say [it] again, I am Your friend; if you doubt it, you wrong my honour. +Arb.+ Why then, my lord, to be short, nothing will Satisfy me, but the duke's---- +Ort.+ What? +Arb.+ Blood. +Ort.+ Why, Thou shalt have it all, if I can help thee To't; this night will I convey you privately Into his bed-chamber. Come along with me, And I will tell you all. [_Exit._ +Arb.+ My lord, I follow you. Sister, go to your chamber. +Art.+ O brother! Heaven preserve you in this danger. +Arb.+ Now It comes into my head, I need not doubt This lord's truth; he is next heir to the dukedom, If the duke die without issue. 'Tis base in him the duke's life to pursue, His blood is only to my sister due. [_Exit._ +Art.+ False duke, thou justly hast deserv'd thy death; To cheat the innocent is a double crime; I had no cunning guard about this heart To keep it safe from a seducing tongue. I have lost my heart, which he by falseness won; How soon is truth and innocence undone! [_Exit._ _Enter +Philidor+._ +Phil.+ Pray remember the poor prisoners, pray Remember the prisoners. Well, had I Not taken this course with the regiment Of women that I have promis'd to marry, I should have been devour'd by 'em by this Time. They came just now into my chamber, One by one, hoping to have found me alone, To have preach'd matrimony to me; but, To my blest deliverance, no sooner One was there, but another came; so I Persuaded them one by one, to slip up Into a garret: so still as one knock'd At the door, the t'other ascended; there Have I secur'd them with this key, and there Must I keep them till I have made Conditions with them. _Enter +Mirida+._ O, here comes Mirida. Pray remember the poor prisoners, pray Remember the poor prisoners. +Mir.+ Who the devil's that, Philidor? +Phil.+ The very same, my mettled female. +Mir.+ Why, What mad prank art thou playing now? +Phil.+ Alack- A-day, I have great cares upon me; I Must provide meat for half-a-dozen ladies, That shou'd have been my spouses. Look up yonder; In that very garret, for aught I know, they Must dine and sup at my charge as long as They live; and thus must I be their cook every Day, and beg their first and second course. +Mir.+ I am sorry to hear this, because 'tis A wilder trick than I have done lately To any of my lovers. Prythee, let's Go under the window, and call to them. +Phil.+ Come away, you shall hear what vollies we shall Have from the castle. Most excellent Amazonian ladies, look out, and behold Your labouring purveyor, what pains he Takes to victual your castle, Because he knows you must be long there. [_Women look out._ +1st Lady.+ Rogue! +2d Lady.+ Rascal! +3d Lady.+ Villain! +4th Lady.+ Dog! +5th Lady.+ Slave! +6th Lady.+ Hell-hound! +Phil.+ Methinks you represent the hemisphere, Because you are enthron'd so high; your eyes Appear like stars to us poor mortals here Below. +1st Lady.+ Villain, if we had thee here, thou Should'st find it hell. +Mir.+ Pray, ladies, what makes you So angry? Methinks the gentleman is Your friend, and has holpt you nearer heaven Than perhaps e'er a one of you would ever Have been. +2d Lady.+ What's that you say, little piss-a-bed? +Mir.+ Sweet angels, will never a one of you Please to descend? +3d Lady.+ Thou little devil, If we had thee here, we'd throw thee down again With such a swing, we'd knock that rascal's brains Out with thy fall. +Mir.+ Then, angry ladies, I Shall stay here--see, has not that lady A very fair nose at this distance? +Phil.+ Has Not t'other there a mouth, that when she opens it To scold, looks like a giant's cave? +4th Lady.+ S'life, we'll Not be abus'd thus; here's a Hercules' statue, Let's throw it down upon their heads. [_+Mirida+ runs away, and meets +Pinguister+ and stops._ _Enter +Pinguister+ and +Doctor+._ +Mir.+ Hold, Philidor, we shall have some new sport Of my making now; here comes my fat lover, Let us stand close and hear a little. +Ping.+ Doctor, Pray, how many stools may I happily have This morning by this purgation, already Taken by me? +Doctor.+ Doubtless, one hundred, sir. +Ping.+ Save me, 'twill swinge my bum-gut then: but how Much fat may it bring away? +Doctor.+ Peradventure, Half-a-dozen pounds. +Ping.+ Love! what dost thou make Me do? But, worthy doctor, from what parts of My continual purg'd body is this store Of fat extracted? +Doctor.+ Chiefly from your waist And calves of your legs. +Ping.+ And how many purges May make my waist and legs' calves, alias, calves Of my legs, delightful to her eye, sir? +Doctor.+ Sir, some ten purges: that is to say, you Must have a thousand stools to drain your treasure Of fat _totaliter_ from ye. +Ping.+ O love! O Mirida, for thee I daily purge: For thee I daily stink. I find I must keep company with the bears, that I May be able to endure my own stink the better. +Doctor.+ Come, sir, I think you had best begin to run Your heats. +Ping.+ O me! nothing cou'd e'er a made A footman of me but love. Well, I must Put on my pumps. +Phil.+ By this light, this is the Pleasantest scene as e'er I saw. +Ping.+ Nay, doctor, If you mean I should run, lend me your hand To help me up. [_Puts on nightcaps._ Now, in the name of love, I most unwillingly start. +Phil.+ S'death! he runs Like a duke. [_He runs round, and sometimes goes out to untruss._ +Mir.+ His stools come very quickly upon Him, one after another. +Ping.+ I must run With my breeches in my hand, my purge visits My bum-gut so intolerably often. +Doctor.+ Now, sir, for a cheerful loose. +Ping.+ By my heart, Master Doctor, I wonder at your cruelty, To ask a cheerful loose of me; am not I loos'd sufficiently by Your furious purgations? _Enter +Lean-man+ and his +Tailor+._ +Mir.+ O, here comes My lean lover. +Lean.+ Tailor, do I look gross Enough now? +Tailor.+ Yes, I'll assure you, you seem Very corpulent. +Lean.+ Well, I am sure if thou Hast not made me large enough, thou wilt thy bill. Now have at Mistress Mirida! sure, my Person will take her. Why, how now, cousin, [_To +Ping+._ What makes you running a heat? +Ping.+ I must not stop To speak with you, but come run by me, And I will tell you. Why, I see You know nothing. Mistress Mirida has a Great kindness for me, but cannot marry me Before I am leaner. +Lean.+ She fools him; her kindness is for me, And bids me make myself fatter, before We marry. [_Aside._ +Ping.+ But pray, coz, what makes you stuff yourself so To appear big? +Lean.+ Yes, I do it to please Mistress Mirida's eye; she bid me. +Ping.+ So she makes An ass of him. [_Aside._ +Lean.+ Well, I won't hinder you In your exercise, Farewell. Now I'll to Mistress Mirida. [_Exit._ +Ping.+ Good bye, good bye. God's fish, my purge again! O, O! _Enter +Clown+ with a cudgel, and beats him in again._ +Clown.+ A nasty rogue, when a man's asleep, To come and do it just in his mouth! I'll swinge ye. +Ping.+ O, hold, good sir, 'twas the violence of my physic; Would my paunch were out, if I saw you! +Phil.+ Hold, What do ye mean to beat a Gentleman thus? +Clown.+ Let Him learn more manners, then, against next time. +Ping.+ O Mistress Mirida, I have been purg'd And beaten most extremely for your sake; Sure, I'm lean enough now to marry you. +Mir.+ That I cannot tell; but I have the measure In my pocket of what compass you were About when you first were in love with me, And also the measure to that you must Fall before I marry you. Here was your full Bigness, which was three yards about: let me see; You are fallen a yard. +Ping.+ Well, and won't you marry me then? +Mir.+ That you'll see presently; for here's the measure Must compass you about before I do. This wants a yard yet. +Ping.+ Well, and d'ye think it's possible For me ever to become such a grig As that measure will meet about me? Why, to do that you must embowel me, and then Shave the remaining rolls of fat off from My melting sides. +Doctor.+ Here, pray, sir, throw this blanket About you; you will catch your death. +Ping.+ Look you, Unreasonable mistress, thus am I Fain to do every day, because I would Melt myself into a husband for you: You may hear my guts at this time boiling Within me; I am confident they will Have the same fat as a kettle full of Black puddings that are over-boiled, and so Broken. +Doctor.+ Come, sir, you must needs go to bed. +Ping.+ That is to say, I must go swim; for that I do constantly in a sea of sweat. +Mir.+ Ay, pray, sir, I wou'd not for all the world You should miscarry. +Ping.+ Indeed, I look as If I were with child. Lady, if you have Any thoughts of going to heaven, have Mercy on me. +Mir.+ Farewell, garbage. +Ping.+ O heat! O fat! O love! what will you Do with me? [_Exit with +Doctor+._ +Phil.+ Was there ever such sport as we have seen? +Mir.+ Heaven send thee and I many a fair Year to be mad together in. +Phil.+ Ay, as You say, give us but time enough, and when We grow tame, let the bell toll for us. But stay, let us return Back to my virgins, that I may Make my conditions with 'em, Before they get out of prison. _Enter all the +Ladies+ and bind them._ S'death! they Are all got out already. +1st Lady.+ O, have we Met with you now, ye pair of devils? we'll lay You fast enough. So good night to you, lie There till we come again. [_Exit +Ladies+._ +Phil.+ Pox on't, was there Ever such luck as this? There was a trap- Door in the garret, which they found and got Out at. +Mir.+ What think ye now of this day's sport Philidor? +Phil.+ Plague on it, well enough; if They had not bound us back to back together, We might have pass'd away the time. Malicious jades! no way of bridling us But this? Pr'ythee turn about thy head, and let Us try if we can kiss one another A little. +Mir.+ No, no, we won't Try for fear you should put your neck out of Joint with turning it too much of one side. +Phil.+ Well, fortune should be more careful Of accidents of this nature, and not Contrive them so cross. _Enter +Boy+._ +Phil.+ O, here comes a boy. Here, sirrah, come hither. +Boy.+ What say you, master? +Phil.+ Here, prythee, unbind us, I'll give thee a Shilling. +Boy.+ Why, sir, can't you unbind yourselves? +Phil.+ Simple boy, thou seest we can't. +Boy.+ And have ye a mind to be unbound? +Phil.+ Yes, yes, we are in great torments To lie thus. +Boy.+ Then, sir, you shall give me a piece, And your hat, because I have never A one, or else farewell. +Phil.+ Well, stay, here take it out of my pockets. +Boy.+ Yes, that I will do, before I unbind you, And your hat too. [_Exit._ +Phil.+ The rogue's too nimble for me. +Mir.+ Well, Philidor, farewell, I must Go put On a clean handkerchief. +Phil.+ And I Must go see if I can find a believing Haberdasher, else I shall be very Ceremonious to every one I meet. [_Exit._ _Enter +Fiddler+._ +Mir.+ A fiddle! nay, then I am made again; I'd have a dance, if I had nothing but my Smock on. Fiddler, strike up, and play my jig, Call'd, _I care not a pin for any man._ +Fid.+ Indeed I can't stay: I am going to Play to some gentlemen. +Mir.+ Nay, thou shalt stay But a little. +Fid.+ Give me half-a-crown then. +Mir.+ I have no money about me. But here, take My handkerchief. [_Dance and Exit._ ACT IV. _Enter +Ortellus+ and +Arbatus+, as going into the +Duke's+ bed-chamber, and the +Duke+ in bed._ +Ort.+ So, I will keep the door, whilst you Dispatch him. +Arb.+ My lord, I find you truly noble. Why, duke; why, duke! I say. Methinks my voice should wake his guilty soul, Nothing but innocence can sleep secure; Then why, good heaven, does he take Such rest? Awake, thou drowsy devil! Duke, my sister's Wrongs do call thee from thy sleep; methinks The sound of those should pierce thy ears. Why, duke! +Duke.+ What bold voice is that? +Arb.+ One that will be more Bold with you. +Duke.+ Who is't so impudent as To break my sleep? +Arb.+ 'Tis I, Arbatus, that Will put thee into a wonder. +Duke.+ Ha! what means That dagger in thy hands? +Arb.+ Canst thou ask that Question? it is to tickle thy false heart. +Duke.+ Ha, ha, ha! you jest, you jest. +Arb.+ What, Does the conceit on't make you laugh already? I was resolved to wake thee, before I sent thee to hell, because thou may'st know Of whose errand thou goest. +Duke.+ Come, come, leave Your foolery, lest you heat my blood. +Arb.+ If I do, I will let it out all, and that Will quickly cool it. I would give thee time To say thy prayers now, but that I know Thy sin to be so great, that heaven will Not pardon thee. _Enter +Artabella+._ +Ort.+ Who's that? +Art.+ 'Tis I, my lord: Artabella. Let me in quickly, that I May have one stab at his false heart, before My brother has put him past feeling. +Ort.+ And so thou shalt, brave girl. +Arb.+ Now, duke, good night to you, and the devil Send you good rest. +Art.+ Hold, brother. +Arb.+ Who's that? +Art.+ 'Tis I thy injur'd sister, come to make The first hole in that base duke's heart; it is My right. +Arb.+ Begin, begin then, that I may Make an end. +Art.+ Stay, brother, not too fast, Has he said his prayers? +Arb.+ His pray'rs! why none But the devil will hear them. Come, come, sister, Give me the dagger again; you waste time. +Art.+ And so I will, the duke shan't die. +Arb.+ How, not die? +Art.+ Not die, I say. +Arb.+ Then you are his whore all this while, and wou'd Have him live, that you may be so still. +Art.+ Brother, Another word so foul, I'll strike this dagger Through your heart, Therefore hear me speak. Know then, 'Tis I that cannot love the duke, which he Would never tell you, knowing 'twould make you angry With me. +Arb.+ Nay then I'll kill you for fooling A brother and your reputation thus. +Duke.+ Hold, Arbatus, she says it but to save My life. 'Tis I have fooled you both, therefore Strike here. +Arb.+ And so I will, then. +Art.+ Hold, brother; Pull not a load of sins upon your head; 'Tis I have been to blame, indeed I have, With loving him too much. +Arb.+ Then thou shalt die. +Duke.+ Hold, sir, heaven will frown on you for ever, If you shed one drop of that pure blood; upon My word, 'tis I. +Arb.+ Keep not my tortur'd soul Thus in suspense. One of you tell me true, And that quickly too, else I will destroy You both, and that's the surest way not To mistake. +Duke.+ Then be assur'd 'tis I. +Art.+ Brother, 'Tis not, 'tis I. +Arb.+ Heyday! heyday! I know Not what to do or say. [_Throws down his sword and goes away._ +Ort.+ So, he is dead, I hope. +Arb.+ No more than you are. +Ort.+ How so? +Arb.+ Come, My lord, as you go, I'll tell you. [_Exeunt +Arbatus+ and +Ortellus+._ +Duke.+ O Artabella, why didst take my sin Upon thyself, hiding thy innocence With a face of guilt? My death had been not Punishment enough, because I have wrong'd So fair a life as yours. Which way to ask Forgiveness, I can't tell; there are no pardons for Such sins as mine; the only way to do Thee right, is this. [_Offers to kill himself._ +Art.+ Hold, sir, my life Shall follow yours, if you strike. +Duke.+ Why would'st thou Have me live? +Art.+ Because I love you, sir. +Duke.+ And that's the only reason I would die. +Art.+ Why, would it be kindly done to show My eyes your blood? +Duke.+ Yes, far more kind than live, and show Thy heart no love. O Artabella, that thou wert My sister! Nothing but brother's love were then Thy due; and I could richly pay thee in That coin, a million more than ever brother did. +Art.+ Wou'd nature then had made me so, or else Had given me never a heart. +Duke.+ What wou'dst Thou have me do, poor Artabella? +Art.+ Nothing But love me, sir. +Duke.+ See, what thou doest ask A man, a god wou'd do; and yet I can't; 'Tis not thy want of beauty, but my fate. Angels themselves, to look upon thy face, Wou'd take a journey twice a day from heaven. +Art.+ If you would come, though far a shorter way, You shou'd be much more welcome. +Duke.+ Sweet tongue, lie still, offer no more such love, As gods themselves to have wou'd think a bliss, Since all thy kindness does but wound my heart, To see thine shipwreck'd in a sea of love, And cannot give it harbour in my breast. +Art.+ Sir, let me beg one thing of you then. +Duke.+ With all my soul, be it my dukedom, and 'Tis thine. +Art.+ 'Tis no such great request; 'Tis only when you meet me, say: I hate Thee, Artabella. +Duke.+ Why, could that word please thee? +Art.+ No; but to hear it said by you, would bring My death, then I wou'd thank you for my rest. Would you not come unto my grave, sir? +Duke.+ O yes, and make thy coffin float with a sea Of tears. +Art.+ Fair sir, of what? +Duke.+ Of grief. +Art.+ O me! A sea of tears, and yet not one of love! Waste not such precious drops upon my grave, it will Not satisfy my hovering soul to see Your eyes drop pity without love. Farewell, sir. O for a grave, that were a resting place; Good heart, be kind, and break apace! [_Exit._ +Duke.+ Heaven love thee for me! Base Amphelia, Thou art the author of my horrid sin. [_Exit._ _Enter +Philidor+ and +Mirida+._ +Phil.+ Thou talk'st of sport, Mirida; if all the Sport we have had already with our lovers, Come not short of this, hang me. You say you have Invited them already to my funeral. +Mir.+ Yes, yes. [_+Philidor+ is laid out like a corpse._ +Phil.+ So, so, methinks my body lies In great state, to see the tribe that will come By-and-by; here will be half a dozen Chief mourners, which should have been my wives, and Some three or four sons and heirs, besides three Or four hopeful daughters; these, with The congregation of nurses, will howl me A pleasant dirge. Mirida, you being my Executrix, must carry yourself very gravely; Here's my will, which you must read to 'em; I'll be The priest myself. Hark, somebody knocks [_Knocks within._ At the gate. _Enter +Boy+._ +Boy.+ Sir, they are all Come. +Phil.+ Let 'em in.--Now, Mirida, manage Your business well. +Mir.+ Let me alone, I'll warrant ye. _Enter +Ladies+ and +Nurse+._ +All Ladies.+ Ah! my poor dear, dear. +All Nurses.+ Ah! my poor dear master! ah, child, Cry for thy poor dad. [_Kiss the hearse._ +Phil.+ What a dog-kennel's here! how they howl! [_Aside._ +Mir.+ When The passions of your grief are over, pray Hear me speak, because it concerns you all. +Phil.+ Pox of thy gravity, Mirida. [_Aside._ +Mir.+ Nay, hold your tongue; if You set me once a laughing, I shall spoil Your funeral. [_Aside._ _Enter +Pinguister+ and +Lean-man+._ So here comes my fat lover and my Lean one! Welcome, gentlemen, I Was afraid I shou'd not have had your company. +Ping.+ Really, sweet lady, I have taken a purge To-day (as I do constantly, for love Of you) which has retarded me, By reason of its operation, neither can I say it has yet finished. +Mir.+ Sir, please you To sit down, and you, Master Pinguister. +Ping.+ Lady, I shall embrace your offer, and shall Press your chair. By my heart, madam, this chair Was fitter for a jackdaw than [for] me. [_Sits down and breaks the chair._ Nay, they make such chairs now-a-days, that had I A grudge to an upholsterer, I would Desire no greater revenge than to sit Down upon every chair in his shop. +Mir.+ Truly, Sir, I am sorry for your fall. Ladies and gentlewomen, pray give your Attention to my dear deceas'd cousin's Will. Poor young man! he was kill'd yesterday By a duel: He liv'd but two hours after he was hurt, Which time he made use of, to settle something On all you here, his worthy friends. +Omnes.+ A good young man. +Mir.+ Imprimis, I bequeath my soul, as other People use to do, and so my body. Item, I give to Mistress Mary, for a reason that she knows, £500. Item, £500 to Mistress Margaret, for a reason she knows. Item, £500 to Mistress Sarah, for a reason she knows. Item, £500 to Mistress Martha, for a reason she knows. Item, £500 to Mistress Alice, for a reason she knows. Item, £500 to Mistress Eleanor, for a reason she knows. And so to all the rest. Item, To my nurses, I leave each of them £20 a year apiece for their lives, besides their arrears due to them for nursing. These sums [_speaks low_] of money and legacies I leave to be rais'd and paid out of my manor of Constantinople, in which the Great Turk is now tenant for life. If they should hear how their legacies [_Laughs aside._ Are to be paid, how they'd fall a-drumming on His coffin! Item, I leave to Master Pinguister, A very fat man.-- +Ping.+ I am so. +Mir.+ An infallible Receipt to make him lean. +Ping.+ So I hope the Dead may do what the living cannot. +Mir.+ I leave to a certain lean gentleman, Whom I have seen in my cousin Mirida's Company, a sure receipt to make him fat. +Lean.+ I find he knew I was to marry his cousin. +Mir.+ I desire my body to be carried to the Grave by the six aforesaid gentlewomen.-- So, ladies, now you have heard his will, Be pleased to take up the body: nurses, You are to follow next; now which o' you Will lead me? +Ping.+ I will, madam. +Lean.+ By my bones, but you shan't. +Ping.+ By my fat, but I will, sir. +Mir.+ Nay, gentlemen, pray, fall not out. Well, one Of you lead me one half of the way. [_Exeunt._ +Ping.+ Agreed, Sir, take you her hand first, A very timely proposition, for my purge Works again. Save me! Whereabouts is the closet? [_Goes out, and comes in again._ What a loose must I run to overtake them Now! else I shall not lead my mistress the last Half-way. Deliver me from love and purges! _Enter all again with a coffin; +Philidor+ and +Mirida+ shut them into the vault._ +Phil.+ So, there let 'em converse with the dead a While; I would rather have 'em there than above Ground: here will I keep 'em till they have All quitted me under their hands and seals. +Mir.+ O, the sport that we shall have by-and-by! Well, but I must go home a little, my Father will miss me: where shall we meet Again? +Phil.+ Just here. +Mir.+ I will not fail. [_Exeunt._ _Enter +Amarissa+ just arrived._ +Ama.+ I'm come too late, and yet too soon am here, Since dear Zoranzo's death is now so near. On the same block with him I'll lay my head, That our two bodies may have but one bed. Thus are our nuptial joys decreed by fate, Our wedding and our burial bear one date. Sure, I'm the first of maids that ever gave Her body to her lover in a grave. Alas! in cold embraces we must meet, With icy kisses in a winding-sheet. Yet though this life denies us time to love, The other life will not so cruel prove; Our souls so fast in lovers' knots we'll tie, That when the headsman strikes, they both shall fly, Twined in one another through the air, And be at rest, whilst other souls despair. _Enter +Jailor+._ This is the prison, And here's the jailor, I believe. Pray, sir, Do you belong unto the prison? +Jailor.+ Belong! Yes, I am the keeper of it. +Ama.+ Is not Here one Zoranzo a prisoner? +Jailor.+ Yes, But he won't be here long, for he is To die anon. +Ama.+ Ah me! sir, I am his Sister; pray help me to him, that I may speak With him before that cruel hour; I love Him so, that I must needs die with him; I'll Petition the duke that I may; sure, he'll not Deny me that request. +Jailor.+ I can tell you a way that you may be sure To have that favour granted. +Ama.+ Tell it me, and I'll thank ye. +Jailor.+ Why, if you'll try to convey him out of prison, As another lady has already, you may Bear them company too. +Ama.+ Why, has there any lady endeavour'd it? +Jailor.+ Yes, one that is his mistress, and they are Both to die together. +Ama.+ Ha! what is't I hear? his mistress, say you? +Jailor.+ Yes, mistress; they both lie as contentedly By one another, as if they were not two. +Ama.+ Curse him, good heaven, ye cannot throw too many Curses on him. Here, jailor, take this, And let me speak with the prisoner. +Jailor.+ Madam, You shall. _Enter +Zoranzo+ and +Amphelia+ as in prison, in chains._ +Zor.+ Amarissa! are my eyes false, or is it Truly she? +Ama.+ Your eyes are true; but 'tis your heart that's false. +Zor.+ I am deceiv'd! that cannot be her tongue. +Ama.+ Should it speak otherwise to thee, I'd tear It out, devil, Zoranzo; cursed pair Of vipers, that in chains of death can practise Lust, as if no end were nigh. Do not My wrongs startle thy guilty soul, to think Of all the torments it must have, that could With so much falseness murder love? When thou Art gone to hell, as go thou must, 'twill be A task for all the devils there, To torture thee enough. Thy sin is such, Were I thy headsman, when thou com'st to die, I'd be a week a-cutting off thy head, 'Twixt every stroke I'd stop; and then I'd hollow Amarissa in thy ears; thy guilt would be An echo to my wrongs, and answer to My cry: wrong'd Amarissa; Which injur'd name repeated to thy ears, Would make thy soul think hell not half such pain. Farewell, Zoranzo, I'll come to see your Head struck off, and your lady's. +Zor.+ Base Amarissa, that can conclude me False, because she saw this lady lie in Chains by me, and could not ask me how we Came together. Thus to revile me, and Not know the truth: I'll scorn to tell her now! _Enter +Duke+._ +Ama.+ O sir, be pleas'd to hear a maid's petition, Though a stranger to you. +Duke.+ Fair maid, what is't? +Ama.+ Zoranzo that's condemn'd to die, may---- +Duke.+ Not Live; if that be your request, pray do not Ask; I shan't grant it. +Ama.+ No, sir, 'tis that he May have a thousand deaths, instead of one; Or one that has more pain than thousands. +Duke.+ What makes you thus incens'd against him? +Ama.+ Heaven knows I have too much cause, sir. I have Lov'd him long, and the day he was your prisoner, Should have been our wedding. News being brought To me in my own country, that he was To die, in flying haste I took this tedious Journey; with sorrow and with joy I here Arrived; tears in my eyes for his approaching Death, smiles on my cheeks to think of dying With him; but when I came unto the prison gate I met the jailor, and he told me all, Then let me in, and to Rejoice my eyes, I saw two devils lie In chains together, and not half so fast As chain'd in love. All my intended kisses then I chang'd Into as many curses on his heart, Which with my eyes I spoke as well as tongue. +Duke.+ Alas! poor injur'd maid, we must be one Another's Petitioners; thy fate is mine; That woman which you saw with him has prov'd As false to me, as he to you. +Ama.+ For heaven's Sake, sir, let 'em die both; no sight would please Us like their blood; the jailor Told me they lie as close together all day As if they were not two. +Duke.+ O, curse on 'em! +Ama.+ O, the devil take 'em! pray, sir, give order That they may be brought immediately To execution. +Duke.+ I will. +Ama.+ I'll go call the jailor, sir. [_Steps to the prison._ _Enter +Jailor+._ +Duke.+ Jailor, let the prisoners be brought to Execution straight, I'll be there myself. +Ama.+ And I too, sir. +Duke.+ You shall; we'll go together. [_Exeunt._ ACT V. _Enter +All Ladies+, +Nurses+, +Pinguister+, and +Lean-man+, as in the vault; +Philidor+ as a Crier._ +Phil.+ _O yes, O yes, O yes! did any man hear tale_ Or tidings of three nurses, called Three Flanders Mares, with three sucking colts?-- +All Nurses.+ Hark, we are cried In the streets. +Phil.+ And also six maiden ladies, that should Have been married to a certain Promising gentleman?-- +All Ladies.+ Devil! we are Cried too. +Phil.+ Also a very lean gentleman, That must be fatter before he's married?-- +Lean-man.+ Hark, that is I? +Phil.+ And the hugest loss of All is one Master Pinguister, a lovely Fat gentleman, whom all that knew him, doubt him To be dead upon some privy-house; because He purged every day for love, by reason Mistress Mirida would not marry him till A certain measure that she[75] has will come About his waist-- _Enter +Mirida+._ +Ping.+ Crier, I am here, I am here. +Phil.+ If any can bring news of the six aforesaid Virgin ladies, or of the three Flanders nurses And colts, to one Master Philidor, a very Conscientious young man-- +Omnes.+ A pox take him! +Phil.+ They shall be extremely paid for their pains. Again, if any can bring tidings of this Master Pinguister to Mistress Mirida, She will be very bountiful in her Reward: the poor soul weeps most bitterly For him. +Ping.+ Does she so, poor wretch? [_Cries aloud._] Prythee, good Crier, go tell her I am not dead, though I have been buried a great while in the Vault. Mercy of my bum-gut, my purge again? +Omnes.+ You nasty rogue, turn your breech out of the Gate then. [_Goes to do so, +Philidor+ kicks him down, he roars out._ +Mir.+ Philidor, I have broke a vein With laughing, to hear thy rogueries. I'll call To Pinguister. Master Pinguister? My Love, my dear, sure, I hear thy voice? +Ping.+ Who's that, My dear female? +Mir.+ The same, fat love. +Ping.+ O, prythee raise me from the dead. +Phil.+ Well, ladies and gentlewomen, how d'ye Like your crier now? +Omnes.+ The devil take thee, was it you? +Phil.+ The very same. +2d Lady.+ Well, won't you let us out? pray howsoever, Take away this fat gentleman from us; For he has such a coming looseness, and 'Tis so dark here, that he has Shit upon every one of us. +Omnes.+ Well, but won't you let us out? +Phil.+ Yes, if you ladies would set your hands To this paper, to quit me as to all promises, I will; and also, my reverend nurses, You must set your hands to this discharge, To quit me from all arrears of nursing: Else farewell t'ye-- +Omnes.+ Well, well, stay; we will. [_Set their hands._ +Phil.+ So, now you may go take the air Again; there's the key to let yourselves out. +Omnes.+ A cheating rogue! +Phil.+ Come, Mirida, let's run away, for if They catch us, murder is the best we can Hope for. [_Exit, with +Mirida+._ +1st Nurse.+ They went this way; let's run after Them, some one way and some t'other. [_Exeunt +Women+._ +Ping.+ So you may, but if I run away, then Hang me; I am glad of my resurrection Howsoever. On my conscience, no green Carcase ever stunk as I did; to my best Remembrance I went to stool some Threescore times in the vault, _ergo_ I was beaten threescore times; the Unmerciful nurses, with their huge Palm'd hands, every time I went to't, Play'd at hot-cockles[76] all the while upon My buttocks. Well, I hope I shall ne'er be Buried again whilst I live, and so with That prayer I'll go to bed. _Enter +Mirida+._ +Mir.+ My dear fat love, little dost thou think how many Tears I have shed for all thy sufferings; that rogue Philidor put a trick upon us all. +Ping.+ Well, and has physic, heats, burial, Nor resurrection, made me yet lean Enough to be thy husband? why, I have Lost as much grease as would furnish A whole city with candles for a twelvemonth And all for the love of thee, sweet Mirida. [_Cries and sobs._ +Mir.+ Dear love, come sit thee in my lap, And let me try if I can enclose thy world Of fat and love within these arms: See, I cannot nigh encompass my Desires by a mile. +Ping.+ How is my fat a rival to my joys! [_Cries._ Sure, I shall weep it all away. +Mir.+ Lie still, my babe, lie still and sleep, It grieves me sore to see thee weep: Wer't thou but leaner, I were glad; Thy fatness makes thy dear love sad. What a lump of love have I in my arms! +Ping.+ Nay, if I had not taken all these courses To dissolve myself into thy embraces, One would think my looking on thee Were enough; for I never see thee but I am like a fat piece of beef roasting At the fire, continually drop, drop, drop. There's ne'er a feature in thy face, or Part about thee, but has cost me many A pint of fat, with thinking on thee; And yet not to be lean enough for Thy husband--O fate! O fate! O fat! [_She lets him fall._ +Mir.+ O Lord, sir, I have let you fall, How shall I do to get you up again! +Ping.+ Nay, that is more than all the world can tell. +Mir.+ I'll e'en lie down by thee then. +Ping.+ Nay, But prythee lie near me; thou hadst As good lie a league off, as that distance. +Mir.+ Were I thy wife, fat love, I would. _+She+ sings._ _My lodging upon the cold floor is, And wonderful hard is my fare, But that which troubles me more, is The fatness of my dear. Yet still I do cry, O, melt, love, And I prythee now melt apace; For thou art the man I should long for, If 'twere not for thy grease._ _+Pinguister+ sings._ _Then prythee don't burden thy heart still, And be deaf to my pitiful moan; Since I do endure the smart still, And for my fat do groan; Then prythee now turn, my dear love, And I prythee now turn to me; For, alas! I am too fat still To roll so far to thee._ +Mir.+ That were not modesty in me to turn To you; but if you can roll to me within This hour, I'll marry you in spite of all Your fat. +Ping.+ Agreed, then I shall gain thee yet; You must lie still then. +Mir.+ Yes, yes. +Ping.+ Sure, I am Sysiphus's stone, for as fast as I turn Over, I think I turn back again, else I Must needs have been come to my journey's end [_He rolls to her, and she rolls from him._ By this time; for I am of such a breadth, That every roll I give I pass over An acre at least. Thou liest still, my love, Dost thou not? +Mir.+ Yes, I long to have thee here. +Ping.+ I doubt I shan't be with thee, though, This two hours. +Mir.+ Then my heart will break. +Ping.+ I'm sure mine will before I get to thee. O woman, O woman, O woman! They talk of woman in travail, I'm Sure I know a man in travail at This time, in more pain by half. [_She rises and laughs at him._ +Mir.+ Why, my most extreme fat ass, dost Thou not find that I have fool'd thee All this while? +Ping.+ Why, hast thou? +Mir.+ Yes, indeed have I. +Ping.+ O thou woman! may'st thou grow Fat, that thy breast and belly may Meet together, so that all the fat Hostesses in Christendom may appear But eels to thee. +Mir.+ Farewell, my lowly love. +Ping.+ Why, wilt thou not help me up, before You go? +Mir.+ What to do? to run heats again for love? +Ping.+ No, to fight with thee. +Mir.+ Fight with me? by this light, would we Had two swords. I'd have one pass At all thy tripes. _Enter +Cutler+ with two swords._ Faith, and yonder's a fellow with two swords: Friend, lend me but thy swords one minute. +Cut.+ I am going to carry them to two gentlemen. +Mir.+ O, this will not hinder thee; thou shalt See rare sport. Go, help that gentleman Up that lies yonder, and give that sword Into his hand. Come, are ye ready, sir? +Ping.+ Why, you dare fight then, it seems? Though thou art so ungodly a chit, as To say no prayers, before thou beginn'st, I will, I assure thee. Good--I pray and desire ye, if I Do miscarry in this duel, that I may Meet with no woman in the other World. Now, thou worst of females, Have at thee. +Mir.+ Come, I'll let out all your fat and love at One thrust. [_Fight, and she disarms him._ Now ask thy life, and confess thou art an ass. +Ping.+ I am an ass, and ask my life. +Mir.+ Then I, thy conquering Cæsar, take my leave With this conclusion: _veni, vidi, vici._ And so farewell. O fate, O love, O fat! [_Exit._ +Ping.+ After all my miseries, would I were Up again, else the next man that comes Will make a roller of me, for to roll Bowling-greens. [_Makes several attempts to rise, and at last gets up._ So, now I have a mile home at least, And every toilsome step I take, I will Curse women. [_Exit._ _Enter +Zoranzo+ and +Amphelia+ lying upon straw together._ +Zor.+ Most bless'd of women, I must tell you truth; And yet I fear that truth will---- +Amph.+ Will what? I doubt he loves me-- [_Aside._ Speak it, sir, nothing from you can Be unwelcome. +Zor.+ O yes, it will. +Amph.+ I'll warrant you; out with it, sir. +Zor.+ Then know, I----'Twill come no farther. +Amph.+ Unhappy man! 'tis so, he loves me. [_Aside._ O sir, I have sadder truth to tell to you Than yours can be to me----I dare not Speak it. +Zor.+ My fears are true; she loves me. [_Aside._ Pray tell me, what it is? +Amph.+ Tell yours first, sir. +Zor.+ Alas! you saw I tried, but could not get It past my lips. +Amph.+ If I should try, mine would not come so far. +Zor.+ Would I knew yours, I could tell it for you. +Amph.+ So could I yours, [and] yet I can't my own. +Zor.+ Alas! she loves me. [_Aside._ +Amph.+ Poor Zoranzo! I see he loves me. [_Aside._ But, sir, consider we are going to die; Let us die undeceiv'd in one another. +Zor.+ O, that some one that knows each of our hearts, Would hearken to our griefs, and bid An angel come and speak for both! _Enter +Jailor+._ +Jailor.+ Come, have you done your discourse? you must go To execution. +Zor.+ A little patience, jailor: [_To her_] see, we are Called unto our deaths, pray tell me, what You mean. +Amph.+ I cannot; first do you begin. +Zor.+ Nor I. +Amph.+ Let us tell both together then, that one May not blame the other. +Zor.+ Agreed: are you ready now to speak! +Amph.+ Yes--O no, I am not--well, now I am-- Are you? +Zor.+ Yes, I am; begin--O, stay, I cannot yet. +Jailor.+ Come, come, I can give you no longer time. +Amph.+ Nay, then we must tell. +Zor.+ Poor Amphelia! 'tis Amarissa that I love. +Amph.+ O Zoranzo, I love the duke! +Zor.+ Then I am joy'd, I was afraid 'twas me You lov'd. +Amph.+ And so was I that you lov'd me. Now we shall both die happy, never was Two such friends as you and I. +Jailor.+ Come, come. +Amph.+ Good jailor, we go most willingly now. [_Exeunt._ _Enter as on a scaffold, +Duke+, +Amarissa+, +Ortellus+, +Zoranzo+, +Amphelia+, +Jailor+, and +Executioner+._ +Ama.+ Jailor, why didst thou let them stay so long? +Jailor.+ They had so much to say to one another, That still they begged one minute, and then Another. +Ama.+ D'ye hear, sir? pray let the jailor Be turn'd out of his place, for letting them speak to One another. +Amph.+ See, Zoranzo, where they sit In triumph o'er our deaths. +Ama.+ S'life, sir, they are Whispering, d'ye see Yonder? Executioner, why don't you Strike off their heads, and let them whisper then. Sir, you're melancholy. +Duke.+ I am indeed. +Zor.+ Now, Amphelia, to heaven and you I truly Vow, my love is still the same to cruel Amarissa. +Amph.+ Heaven and you witness the same for me: My heart is still that undeserving duke's. +Exec.+ Come, which of you will die first? +Zor.+ Hast thou not Skill enough to strike our heads off together? +Ama.+ Executioner, let them not have that Satisfaction; pray, sir, let that woman Die first, that damned Zoranzo may have Two deaths; it will be one to him to see Her die; shall it be so, sir? +Duke.+ What you please. +Exec.+ Come, lady, you must lay down your head First, the duke says. +Amph.+ That word's the sharpest axe That I shall feel. +Exec.+ Have you said all? [_Both kneel as at prayers._ +Amph.+ To earth I have, But not to heaven. Farewell, dear friend, for one short minute. +Zor.+ My soul Shall hasten after yours. +Ama.+ S'life! jailor, will you Let them speak to one another again? +Amph.+ Executioner, now I am ready. +Duke.+ Hold, The prisoner shall die first. +Zor.+ With all my Heart, I am ready. +Duke.+ Nay, it is not you I mean, sir; rise; 'tis I that am the prisoner, I will make you a present, take your life, Your love; nay, and my dukedom too: and to Oblige you most of all, executioner, Strike off my head, for I am weary of it. +Amph.+ Not for ten thousand worlds, sir, Whate'er you mean. +Duke.+ Know then, I have lov'd you All this while, but seeing your hate so great to me, I have dissembled scorn to you. [_She swoons._ Why dost thou swoon, Amphelia? +Amph.+ Did not I hear some voice just now, That said the duke does love me still? +Duke.+ Thou didst; 'twas he himself that said so. +Amph.+ If 'twere from heaven, good heaven, say it again! +Duke.+ 'Twas I myself, I tell thee--and I will Ne'er speak another word, if that displease thee. +Amph.+ O, I am in heaven then, it seems, and 'tis Some god that is telling me how the duke Loved me still. +Duke.+ Dear Amphelia, 'tis I That loves thee, tells thee so. +Amph.+ Hark, now there is a god that says he loves Me too; blest god, I'm sorry if you do. Since I have heard the duke does love me still, He must be your rival, indeed I cannot Help it. O, let me fly down to the earth Again, only to hear him say he loves me. I cannot promise when I shall return: That very word from him would keep me there. +Duke.+ I must answer her no more: they say 'Twill keep 'em longer in a trance. [_He rubs her._ +Ort.+ I am but in a scurvy condition now, if She comes to life again, for they will Examine one another, how the mistake Came between them, and then I am Sure it must come to light. [_Aside._ +Amph.+ Who's that,--duke Archimedes? +Duke.+ The same, sweet angel. +Amph.+ O sir, I am come from heaven to see you, Since there I heard you love me still. +Duke.+ Dear Amphelia, thou hast dream'd all this while; Heaven, 'tis true, is where thou art, but 'twas My voice that said I love thee. +Amph.+ Was not my head struck off just now? +Duke.+ Canst thou ask that, while I have A head and heart? +Amph.+ Why, have you lov'd me still? +Duke.+ With as much truth as ever lover did. +Amph.+ So have I you with equal constancy. +Ama.+ Well, sir, now you are satisfied, pray let Me be so too, and let Zoranzo's head Be struck off quickly, I see he's mean as well as false, to quit Me for a woman that does not love him. +Amph.+ Hold, Amarissa, hear me speak, before Zoranzo dies; and be assur'd he loves You still. +Ama.+ Would you deceive me too? +Amph.+ Indeed I don't; when we were going to die, You may remember that we whispered, Then we called heaven and ourselves to witness, That both our loves were true, Mine to Archimedes, and his to you. +Ama.+ You can forgive me, sir? [_Kneels._ +Zor.+ I cannot answer yet; Thy civility has took away my speech. +Duke.+ Dear Amphelia, how came this sad mistake 'Twixt you and I? +Amph.+ I'll tell you, sir, in part; When you were in this last war, my woman Receiv'd a letter from one of the gentlemen Of your chamber, wherein he did assure Her that you had a new mistress in that Country, and therefore bid her tell me Of it, that I might by degrees wean my Affections from so false a man as you. +Duke.+ Here has been some foul play; for this very man You spoke of, receiv'd a letter from your woman, Wherein she bid him assure me, that you Were prov'd false in my absence, and lov'd my Cousin Ortellus. Guard, go fetch them both Hither immediately; they shall die Without mercy. +Ort.+ Nay, then, I had as good Discover, 'twill fall th' heavier on me else. Sir, let the guard stay, And I will tell you all. 'Tis I have sow'd the seeds of this mistake. I long have lov'd Amphelia, for which cause I tried this way to draw her heart from you. I knew this gentleman of your bed-chamber Was in love with Amphelia's woman, Therefore I brib'd her to write to him, To assure the duke that Amphelia lov'd me, And that she should also charge him, to write Another letter to her, wherein he Should complain of the duke's falling in love With another woman in that country. I knew your spirits both to be so great that Neither of you would stoop to one another, When you were both possess'd of either's falseness: And so it prov'd. For when the duke heard you lov'd me, he brought A fair new mistress over with him, to Let you see he did contemn you; and so Amphelia, sir, when she heard you lov'd Another, assur'd me then that she lov'd me, Which now I see was only to make you Think how much she scorn'd you, though still her heart Was true, and so was yours. Now, sir, I humbly beg your pardon. +Duke.+ 'Twill be in vain, my lord; I cannot grant it. O Amphelia, how many hours of joy We two have lost! +Amph.+ Base lord! _Enter +Artabella+._ +Art.+ O sir, I heard that people were to die To-day; let me be one, I pray. +Amph.+ Not for The world, sweet innocent. +Art.+ O madam, you are she The duke loves. Pray spare your pity, sir; can You have the heart to let me live, and see You married to another? +Amph.+ Have patience, Sweet young maid, I will not marry him; you won't Blame me, if I love him, though? +Art.+ No; For then I should condemn my fault in you. +Duke.+ But sure, Amphelia, you did but jest, In telling her you would not marry me? +Amph.+ Indeed, sir, I am in earnest; consider It is but justice; she loves you as well As I: her heart was quiet till you troubled It. +Duke.+ All this is true; but how will your Love show, if you refuse to marry me? +Amph.+ Not less at all, but make my pity more. +Duke.+ If I would marry her, I can't believe, That she would be thus kind to you. +Amph.+ Yes, I dare say she would; ask her and try. +Duke.+ Well, Artabella, will you marry me? +Art.+ You never hated me till now; can you Believe I'd wrong so blest a woman as Amphelia? +Amph.+ See, sir, would it be justice now in me? She will not wound my heart; should I kill hers? +Duke.+ But consider, 'tis you I love, not her. +Amph.+ That's her misfortune, sir, yet she deserves. As much as I: I can but love you, so Does she. +Duke.+ Dear Amphelia, marry me. +Amph.+ I cannot Out of pity, sir. +Duke.+ Talk not of pity, if Thou wilt show me none. +Amph.+ My pity is her due: My love is yours. +Duke.+ O Amphelia, this was A cruel way to make me happy. Thou'st Better still have kept my joys unknown, than let The knowing of it be my death. Once more, My dear Amphelia, marry me. +Amph.+ Do not Petition her; you may command in any Thing but this. +Duke.+ Monster of villains, thou hast caus'd All this! Executioner, immediately strike Off his head. +Ort.+ I'm sure you will not let me die. +Duke.+ Impudent villain, dispatch him straight. +Ort.+ Hold, sir, 'tis only I can make you Three happy, which if you do not confess, When you have heard me speak, then let me die. +Duke.+ Well, let's hear it. +Ort.+ Promise me my life First, if I do. +Duke.+ Well, you shall have it. +Ort.+ Then know, the lady Artabella is Your sister. +Duke.+ Ha! +Ort.+ I say, your sister; You do remember that you had one once? +Duke.+ Yes, I do, but she was lost at three years old. +Ort.+ 'Tis true it was thought so; but thus it is:-- When 'twas reported you were slain in th' battle, I straight convey'd away this lady, then A child, because she should not stand 'twixt me And the dukedom. I being then acquainted With the mother to Arbatus, I brought This lady, and gave her a sum of money, T' adopt her for her child. With willingness My offer she embrac'd, the more, because Her son Arbatus had been lost about Seven years, thought to have been cast away At sea, though afterwards returned home: I had enjoin'd her secrecy, which she Kept, therefore she told Arbatus 'twas his Sister. _Enter +Arbatus+._ +Duke.+ And is she then my sister? O Arbatus, welcome, welcome! I've a crowd Of joys about my heart to tell thee. +Arb.+ What! that you have broken my sister's heart? +Duke.+ Thou hast no sister; 'tis I [that] possess that Blessing; Artabella is my sister. How blest a sound is _sister_ to my ears! I'll give command no other word but _sister_ Shall be spoke throughout my dukedom; I'll have it Taught to infants; so that when nature lends Their sucking tongues a means to speak one word, They shall all babble _sister_, 'stead of _nurse._ I'll have the name engrav'd in gold [up]on Every post and pillar in the streets, and passers- By shall worship it. +Arb.+ I am amazed. _Enter +Philidor+ and +Mirida+._ +Duke.+ Welcome, Philidor. +Phil.+ I am glad To see joy in your looks again, sir; The time is long since I have seen you smile. +Duke.+ Philidor, all that is joy I have within This breast; it overflows And runs into my eyes. This is my sister! (O, what a word is sister!) and this my dear And true Amphelia. Come, Mirida shall be thine to-day too. [_To +Philidor+._ +Mir.+ Hold, sir, I forbid that banns. +Phil.+ Troth, so do I too; you always Take the words out of my mouth. You and I marry, quotha! +Mir.+ No, faith, we'll be hang'd first. I'd Rather hear a long sermon, than Hear a parson ask me: _Mirida, Will you have this man for your Wedded husband, to have and to hold, From this day forward_, and so forth. +Phil.+ Right, _for better for worse, in Sickness or in health._ +Mir.+ Ay, and perhaps after we have been Married half a year, one's Husband falls into a deep consumption, And will not do one the favour to Die neither, then we must be Ever feeding him with caudles. O, from a husband in a consumption Deliver me! +Phil.+ And think how weary I should be Of thee, Mirida, when once we were Chain'd together: the very name of Wife would be a vomit to me: then Nothing but, _where's my wife? call My wife to dinner, call my wife to supper_; And then at night, _come, wife, will you Go to bed_? +Mir.+ Ay, and that would be so troublesome To be call'd by one's husband every night To go to bed. O, that dull, dull Name of husband! +Duke.+ Indeed you two are well met, The world has not two more such, I am confident. +Mir.+ The more the pity, sir. +Phil.+ No, sir, if you please, never propose Marrying to us, till both of us have Committed such faults as are death By the law; then instead of Hanging us, marry us. +Mir.+ And then you shall hear how Earnestly we shall petition your Highness to be hang'd rather than Married. +Duke.+ No man can judge which is the Wildest of these two. Now, brave Arbatus, in all my dukedom There is but one gift worthy thy Receiving, and that's my sister; Here, sir, take her as freely as heaven Gave her me. +Arb.+ D'ye forgive me, sir? +Duke.+ Or not myself, Arbatus. This day Hymen shall light his torch for all. +Phil.+ With your pardon, sir, not for me And my female? +Mir.+ No, faith, I'll blow it out, If he does. +Art.+ Sir, though in my own desires I should have chose the man that you have given me, Yet I beg we may not marry yet; we have Call'd brother and sister so long, that yet We needs must think we are so still. +Arb.+ Pray, madam, Let's think so as little a while as we can, That fancy may not keep my joy in prison. +Duke.+ Let's to the temple now, and there thank Heaven for these unexpected joys. Each day the gods shall lend me in this life, I'll thank them for a sister and a wife. [_Exeunt._ FOOTNOTES: [75] [Old copy, _he_.] [76] [See Thoms' "Anecdotes and Traditions," 1839, p. 95.] HISTORIA HISTRIONICA. _EDITION._ _Historia Histrionica. An Historical Account of the English-Stage; showing the Ancient Uses, Improvement, and Perfection of Dramatic Representations, in this Nation. In a Dialogue, of Plays and Players._--Olim meminisse juvabit. _London. Printed by G. Croom, for William Haws, at the Rose in Ludgate-Street._ 1699. 8º. This tract is said to have been the production of James Wright of New Inn, afterwards of the Middle Temple, Barrister-at-Law, who was the son of Abraham Wright, a well-known miscellaneous writer (1645-70). The former was the author of "The Antiquities of Rutlandshire," and some poems; particularly (1) "An Essay on the Present Ruins of St Paul's Cathedral." To which is annexed, "The Misfortunes of St Paul's Cathedral," in heroic verse, 4º. 1668; reprinted with two other poems under the title of (2) "Three poems of St Paul's Cathedral; viz., The Ruins, The Rebuilding, The Choire,[77] Fo. 1697," and (3) "Phœnix Paulina, a Poem on St Paul's Cathedral, 4º. 1709."[78] He was alive in 1710, being mentioned by Mr Hearne in his preface to Leland's "Itinerary," in this manner; "I could have supply'd more Lacunæ, and in all likelyhood have render'd this performance more perfect, if I had had the use of a very good transcript of Mr Leland's 'Itinerary,' taken about the time of Queen Elizabeth (before the originals took wet, as is suppos'd) and was formerly in possession of James Wright, of the Middle Temple, Esq., the worthy author of the 'Antiquities of Rutlandshire;' but this, with a multitude of other valuable curiosities, was unhappily burned in the fire at the Middle Temple, in the year 1698, as Mr Wright has been pleased to inform me." Anthony Wood says, he wrote an elegy on the death of Mr John Goad, Master of Merchant Taylor's School, who died 1689. (See Wood's "Athenæ," vol. i. p. 839.) FOOTNOTES: [77] British Topography, vol. 1. p. 610. [78] Catalogue of pamphlets in the Harleian Library, p. 140. THE PREFACE.[79] Much has been writ of late _pro_ and _con_ about the stage, yet the subject admits of more, and that which has not been hitherto touched upon; not only what that is, but what it was, about which some people have made such a bustle. What it is we see, and I think it has been sufficiently displayed in Mr Collier's book; what it was in former ages, and how used in this kingdom, so far back as one may collect any memorials, is the subject of the following dialogue. Old plays will be always read by the curious, if it were only to discover the manners and behaviour of several ages, and how they altered. For plays are exactly like portraits, drawn in the garb and fashion of the time when painted. You see one habit in the time of Charles I., another quite different from that, both for men and women, in Queen Elizabeth's time; another under Henry VIII. different from both; and so backward, all various. And in the several fashions of behaviour and conversation there is as much mutability as in that of clothes. Religion and religious matters were once as much the mode in public entertainments as the contrary has been in some times since. This appears in the different plays of several ages: and to evince this the following sheets are an essay or specimen. Some may think the subject of this discourse trivial, and the persons herein mentioned not worth remembering. But besides that I could name some things contested of late with great heat, of as little or less consequence, the reader may know that the profession of players is not so totally scandalous, nor all of them so reprobate, but that there has been found under that name a canonised saint in the primitive church, as may be seen in the "Roman Martyrology" on the 29th March: his name _Masculas_, a master of interludes (the Latin is _Archimimus_, and the French translation _un Maître comedien_) who, under the persecution of the Vandals in Africa by Geisericus the Aryan king, having endured many and grievous torments and reproaches for the confession of the truth, finished the course of this glorious combat, saith the said "Martyrology." It appears from this and some further instances in the following discourse, that there have been players of worthy principles as to religion, loyalty, and other virtues; and if the major part of them fall under a different character, it is the general unhappiness of mankind, that the _most_ are the _worst._ FOOTNOTES: [79] This preface was omitted by Mr Reed, probably because his copy was not perfect. It is reprinted from the first edition in 1699, which the former editor had not been able to procure.--_Collier._ A DIALOGUE, &c. +Lovewit+, +Trueman+. +Love.+ Honest old cavalier, well met! faith, I'm glad to see thee. +True.+ Have a care what you call me: old is a word of disgrace among the ladies; to be honest is to be poor and foolish (as some think); and cavalier is a word as much out of fashion as any of 'em. +Love.+ The more's the pity. But what said the fortune-teller in Ben Jonson's "Masque of Gipsies," to the then Lord Privy Seal?-- _Honest and old! In those the good part of a fortune is told._ +True.+ Ben Jonson! how dare you name Ben Jonson in these times, when we have such a crowd of poets of a quite different genius, the least of which thinks himself as well able to correct Ben Jonson as he could a country schoolmistress that taught to spell! +Love.+ We have, indeed, poets of a different genius, so are the plays; but, in my opinion, they are all of 'em (some few excepted) as much inferior to those of former times, as the actors now in being (generally speaking) are, compared to Hart, Mohun, Burt, Lacy, Clun, and Shatterel; for I can reach no farther backward. +True.+ I can, and dare assure you, if my fancy and memory are not partial (for men of my age are apt to be over-indulgent to the thoughts of their youthful days), I say the actors that I have seen before the wars--Lowin, Taylor, Pollard, and some others--were almost as far beyond Hart and his company as those were beyond these now in being. +Love.+ I am willing to believe it, but cannot readily; because I have been told that those whom I mentioned were bred up under the others of your acquaintance, and followed their manner of action, which is now lost: so far that, when the question has been asked why these players do not revive the "Silent Woman" and some other of Jonson's plays (once of highest esteem), they have answered, "Truly, because there are none now living who can rightly humour those parts; for all who related to the Blackfriars (where they were acted in perfection) are now dead and almost forgotten." +True.+ 'Tis very true, Hart and Clun were bred up boys at the Blackfriars, and acted women's parts. Hart was Robinson's boy or apprentice; he acted the Duchess in the tragedy of the "Cardinal," which was the first part that gave him reputation. Cartwright and Wintershal belonged to the Private House in Salisbury Court; Burt was a boy, first under Shank at the Blackfriars, then under Beeston at the Cockpit; and Mohun and Shatterel were in the same condition with him at the last place. There Burt used to play the principal women's parts, in particular Clariana, in "Love's Cruelty;" and at the same time Mohun acted Bellamente, which part he retained after the Restoration. +Love.+ That I have seen, and can well remember. I wish they had printed in the last age (so I call the times before the Rebellion) the actors' names over against the parts they acted, as they have done since the Restoration, and thus one might have guessed at the action of the men by the parts which we now read in the old plays. +True.+ It was not the custom and usage of those days, as it hath been since. Yet some few old plays there are that have the names set against the parts, as "The Duchess of Malfy," "The Picture," "The Roman Actor," "The Deserving Favourite," "The Wild-Goose Chase" (at the Blackfriars), "The Wedding," "The Renegado," "The Fair Maid of the West," "Hannibal and Scipio," "King John and Matilda" (at the Cockpit), and "Holland's Leaguer" (at Salisbury Court). +Love.+ These are but few indeed. But pray, sir, what master-parts can you remember the old Blackfriar's men to act in Jonson, Shakespeare, and Fletcher's plays? +True.+ What I can at present recollect, I'll tell you. Shakespeare (who, as I have heard, was a much better poet than player), Burbage, Hemmings, and others of the older sort, were dead before I knew the town; but in my time, before the wars, Lowin used to act with mighty applause Falstaff, Morose, Volpone, and Mammon in the "Alchymist," Melantius in the "Maid's Tragedy;" and at the same time Amyntor was played by Stephen Hammerton (who was at first a most noted and beautiful woman-actor, but afterwards he acted with equal grace and applause a young lover's part); Taylor acted Hamlet incomparably well; Jago, Truewit in the "Silent Woman," and Face in the "Alchymist." Swanston used to play Othello. Pollard and Robinson were comedians; so was Shank, who used to act Sir Roger in the "Scornful Lady:" these were of Blackfriars. Those of principal note at the Cockpit were Perkins, Michael Bowyer, Sumner, William Allan, and Bird, eminent actors, and Robins, a comedian. Of the other companies I took little notice. +Love.+ Were there so many companies? +True.+ Before the wars there were in being all these play-houses at the same time. The Blackfriars and Globe on the Bank-side, a winter and summer house, belonging to the same company, called the King's Servants; the Cockpit or Phœnix, in Drury Lane, called the Queen's Servants; the Private House, in Salisbury Court, called the Prince's Servants; the Fortune, near Whitecross Street;[80] and the Red Bull, at the upper end of St John's Street: the two last were mostly frequented by citizens and the meaner sort of people. All these companies got money, and lived in reputation, especially those of the Blackfriars, who were men of grave and sober behaviour. +Love.+ Which I admire at; that the town, much less than at present, could then maintain five companies, and yet now two can hardly subsist. +True.+ Do not wonder, but consider that, though the town was then, perhaps, not much more than half so populous as now, yet then the prices were small (there being no scenes), and better order kept among the company that came; which made very good people think a play an innocent diversion for an idle hour or two, the plays themselves being then, for the most part, more instructive and moral. Whereas, of late, the play-houses are so extremely pestered with vizard-masks and their trade (occasioning continual quarrels and abuses), that many of the more civilised part of the town are uneasy in the company, and shun the theatre as they would a house of scandal. It is an argument of the worth of the plays and actors of the last age, and easily inferred, that they were much beyond ours in this, to consider that they could support themselves merely from their own merit, the weight of the matter, and goodness of the action, without scenes and machines; whereas the present plays, with all that show, can hardly draw an audience, unless there be the additional invitation of a Signer Fedeli, a Monsieur l'Abbé, or some such foreign regale expressed in the bottom of the bill. +Love.+ To waive this digression, I have read of one Edward Alleyn, a man so famed for excellent action, that among Ben Jonson's epigrams I find one directed to him, full of encomium, and concluding thus-- _Wear this renown; 'tis just that who did give So many poets life, by one should live._ Was he one of the Blackfriars? +True.+ Never as I have heard (for he was dead before my time). He was master of a company of his own, for whom he built the Fortune Playhouse from the ground, a large round brick building. This is he that grew so rich, that he purchased a great estate in Surrey and elsewhere; and having no issue, he built and largely endowed Dulwich College in the year 1619[81], for a master, a warden, four fellows, twelve aged poor people, and twelve poor boys, &c. A noble charity! +Love.+ What kind of play-houses had they before the wars? +True.+ The Blackfriars, Cockpit, and Salisbury Court were called private houses, and were very small to what we see now. The Cockpit was standing since the Restoration, and Rhodes's company acted there for some time. +Love.+ I have seen that. +True.+ Then you have seen the other two in effect, for they were all three built almost exactly alike for form and bigness. Here they had pits for the gentry, and acted by candlelight. The Globe, Fortune, and Bull were large houses, and lay partly open to the weather, and there they always acted by daylight. +Love.+ But prythee, Trueman, what became of these players when the stage was put down, and the Rebellion raised? +True.+ Most of them, except Lowin, Taylor, and Pollard (who were superannuated) went into the king's army, and, like good men and true, served their old master, though in a different, yet more honourable capacity. Robinson was killed at the taking of a place (I think Basing House) by Harrison, he that was after hanged at Charing Cross, who refused him quarter, and shot him in the head when he had laid down his arms; abusing Scripture at the same time in saying, _Cursed is he that doth the work of the Lord negligently_. Mohun was a captain, and (after the wars were ended here) served in Flanders, where he received pay as a major. Hart was a lieutenant of horse under Sir Thomas Dallison, in Prince Rupert's regiment; Burt was cornet in the same troop, and Shatterel quartermaster. Allen of the Cockpit was a major, and quartermaster-general at Oxford. I have not heard of one of these players; of any note that sided with the other party, but only Swanston; and he professed himself a Presbyterian, took up the trade of a jeweller, and lived in Aldermanbury, within the territory of Father Calamy. The rest either lost or exposed their lives for their king. When the wars were over, and the Royalists totally subdued, most of 'em who were left alive gathered to London, and for a subsistence endeavoured to revive their old trade privately. They made up one company out of all the scattered members of several; and in the winter before the king's murder, 1648, they ventured to act some plays, with as much caution and privacy as could be, at the Cockpit. They continued undisturbed for three or four days; but at last, as they were presenting the tragedy of the "Bloody Brother" (in which Lowin acted Aubery: Taylor, Rollo; Pollard, the Cook; Burt, Latorch; and, I think, Hart, Otto), a party of foot-soldiers beset the house, surprised 'em about the middle of the play,[82] and carried 'em away in their habits, not admitting them to shift, to Hatton House, then a prison, where, having detained them some time, they plundered them of their clothes, and let 'em loose again. Afterwards, in Oliver's time, they used to act privately, three or four miles, or more, out of town, now here, now there: sometimes in noblemen's houses, in particular, Holland House at Kensington, where the nobility and gentry who met (but in no great numbers) used to make a sum for them, each giving a broad piece, or the like. And Alexander Goffe, the woman-actor at Blackfriars (who had made himself known to persons of quality), used to be the jackal, and give notice of time and place. At Christmas and Bartholomew Fair, they used to bribe the officer who commanded the guard at Whitehall, and were thereupon connived at to act for a few days at the Red Bull,[83] but were sometimes, notwithstanding, disturbed by soldiers. Some picked up a little money by publishing the copies of plays never before printed, but kept up in manuscript. For instance, in the year 1652, Beaumont and Fletcher's "Wild-Goose Chase" was printed in folio, for the public use of all the ingenious, as the title-page says, and private benefit of John Lowin and Joseph Taylor, servants to his late majesty; and by them dedicated to the honoured few lovers of dramatic poesy, wherein they modestly intimate their wants, and that with sufficient cause; for whatever they were before the wars, they were after reduced to a necessitous condition. Lowin, in his latter days, kept an inn, the Three Pigeons at Brentford, where he died very old, for he was an actor of eminent note in the reign of King James I.; and his poverty was as great as his age. Taylor died at Richmond, and was there buried. Pollard, who lived single, and had a competent estate, retired to some relations he had in the country, and there ended his life. Perkins and Sumner of the Cockpit kept house together at Clerkenwell, and were there buried. These all died some years before the Restoration; what followed after, I need not tell you; you can easily remember. +Love.+ Yes; presently after the Restoration, the king's players acted publicly at the Red Bull for some time, and then removed to a new-built play-house in Vere Street, by Clare Market. There they continued for a year or two, and then removed to the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, where they first made use of scenes, which had been a little before introduced upon the public stage by Sir William Davenant, at the Duke's Old Theatre in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, but afterwards very much improved, with the addition of curious machines, by Mr Betterton, at the New Theatre in Dorset Garden, to the great expense and continual charge of the players. This much impaired their profit o'er what it was before; for I have been informed by one of 'em, that for several years next after the Restoration every whole sharer in Mr Hart's company got £1000 _per ann._ About the same time that scenes first entered upon the stage at London, women were taught to act their own parts; since when we have seen at both houses several actresses, justly famed, as well for beauty as perfect good action. And some plays, in particular the "Parson's Wedding," have been presented all by women, as formerly all by men. Thus it continued for about twenty years, when Mr Hart, and some of the old men, began to grow weary, and were minded to leave off. Then the two companies thought fit to unite; but of late, you see, they have thought it no less fit to divide again, though both companies keep the same name of His Majesty's Servants. All this while the play-house music improved yearly, and is now arrived to greater perfection than ever I knew it. Yet for all these advantages, the reputation of the stage and people's affection to it are much decayed. Some were lately severe against it, and would hardly allow stage-plays fit to be longer permitted. Have you seen Mr Collier's book? +True.+ Yes, and his opposers'. +Love.+ And what think you? +True.+ In my mind, Mr Collier's reflections are pertinent, and true in the main; the book ingeniously wrote, and well intended; but he has overshot himself in some places, and his respondents perhaps in more. My affection inclines me not to engage on either side, but rather mediate. If there be abuses relating to the stage--which, I think, is too apparent--let the abuse be reformed, and not the use, for that reason only, abolished. 'Twas an old saying, when I was a boy-- _Absit abusus, non desit totaliter usus._ I shall not run through Mr Collier's book; I will only touch a little on two or three general notions, in which, I think, he may be mistaken. What he urges out of the primitive councils and fathers of the Church seems to me to be directed against the heathen plays, which were a sort of religious worship with them, to the honour of Ceres, Flora, or some of their false deities. They had always a little altar on their stages, as appears plain enough from some places in Plautus. And Mr Collier himself, p. 235, tells us out of Livy that plays were brought in, upon the score of religion, to pacify the gods. No wonder, then, they forbid Christians to be present at them, for it was almost the same as to be present at their sacrifices. We must also observe that this was in the infancy of Christianity, when the Church was under severe and almost continual persecutions, and when all its true members were of most strict and exemplary lives, not knowing when they should be called to the stake, or thrown to wild beasts. They communicated daily, and expected death hourly; as their thoughts were intent upon the next world, they abstained almost wholly from all diversions and pleasures (though lawful and innocent) in this. Afterwards, when persecution ceased, and the Church flourished, Christians, being then freed from their former terrors, allowed themselves, at proper times, the lawful recreations of conversations, and among other, no doubt, this of shows and representations. After this time, the censures of the Church indeed might be continued or revived upon occasion against plays and players; though, in my opinion, it cannot be understood generally, but only against such players who were of vicious and licentious lives, and represented profane subjects, inconsistent with the morals and probity of manners requisite to Christians, and frequented chiefly by such loose and debauched people as were much more apt to corrupt than divert those who associated with them. I say, I cannot think the canons and censures of the fathers can be applied to all players, _quatenus_ players; for if so, how could plays be continued among the Christians, as they were, of divine subjects and scriptural stories? A late French author, speaking of the Hotel de Bourgogne, a play-house in Paris, says that the ancient dukes of that name gave it to the Brotherhood of the Passion, established in the church of Trinity Hospital, in the Rue St Denis, on condition that they should represent here interludes of devotion; and adds, that there have been public shows in this place six hundred years ago. The Spanish and Portuguese continue still to have, for the most part, such ecclesiastical stories for the subject of their plays; and if we may believe Gage, they are acted in their churches in Mexico and the Spanish West Indies. +Love.+ That's a great way off, Trueman; I had rather you would come nearer home, and confine your discourse to Old England. +True.+ So I intend. The same has been done here in England; for otherwise, how comes it to be prohibited in the 88th Canon, among those passed in convocation, 1603? Certain it is that our ancient plays were of religious subjects, and had for their actors, if not priests, yet men relating to the Church. +Love.+ How does that appear? +True.+ Nothing clearer. Stow, in his "Survey of London," has one chapter _Of the Sports and Pastimes of old time used in this City_; and there he tells us, that in the year 1391, which was 15 Richard II., a stage-play was played by the parish clerks of London, at the Skinner's Well beside Smithfield, which play continued three days together, the king, queen, and nobles of the realm being present. And another was played in the year 1409, 11 Henry IV., which lasted eight days, and was of matter from the creation of the world, whereat were present most part of the nobility and gentry of England. Sir William Dugdale, in his "Antiquities of Warwickshire," p. 116, speaking of the Grayfriars or Franciscans at Coventry, says: "Before the suppression of the monasteries, this city was very famous for the pageants that were played therein upon Corpus-Christi Day; which pageants, being acted with mighty state and reverence by the friars of this house, had theatres for the several scenes very large and high, placed upon wheels, and drawn to all the eminent parts of the city, for the better advantage of the spectators, and contained the story of the New Testament, composed in old English rhyme." An ancient manuscript of the same is now to be seen in the Cottonian Library, _Sub Effig. Vesp. D. 8_. Since the Reformation, in Queen Elizabeth's time, plays were frequently acted by quiristers and singing-boys; and several of our old comedies have printed in the title-page, "acted by the children of Paul's" (not the school, but the church); others, "by the children of her majesty's chapel:" in particular, "Cynthia's Revels" and "The Poetaster" were played by them, who were at that time famous for good action. Among Ben Jonson's epigrams you may find an epitaph on S. P. (_Sal. Pavy_), one of the children of Queen Elizabeth's chapel, part of which runs thus-- _Years he counted scarce thirteen, When fates turn'd cruel, Yet three fill'd zodiacs he had been The stage's jewel; And did act (what now we moan) Old men so duly, As, sooth, the Parcæ thought him one, He play'd so truly._ Some of these chapel-boys, when they grew men, became actors at the Blackfriars; such were Nathan. Field[84] and John Underwood. Now I can hardly imagine that such plays and players as these are included in the severe censure of the councils and fathers; but such only who are truly within the character given by Didacus de Tapia, cited by Mr Collier, p. 276, viz., _The infamous playhouse; a place of contradiction to the strictness and sobriety of religion; a place hated by God, and haunted by the devil_. And for such I have as great an abhorrence as any man. +Love.+ Can you guess of what antiquity the representing of religious matters on the stage hath been in England? +True.+ How long before the Conquest, I know not, but that it was used in London not long after, appears by Fitz-Stephen, an author who wrote in the reign of King Henry the Second.[85] His words are, _Londonia pro spectaculis theatralibus, pro ludis scenicis, ludos habet sanctiores, representationes miraculorum, quæ sancti confessores operati sunt, seu repræsentationes passionum quibus claruit constantia martyrum._ Of this the manuscript which I lately mentioned, in the Cottonian library, is a notable instance. Sir William Dugdale cites this manuscript by the title of _Ludus Coventriæ_; but in the printed Catalogue of that library, p. 113, it is named thus, A Collection of Plays in Old English Metre; h. e. _Dramata sacra, in quibus exhibentur historiæ Veteris et N. Testamenti, introductis quasi in scenam personis illic memoratis, quas secum invicem colloquentes pro ingenio fingit poeta. Videntur olim coram populo, sive ad instruendum, sive ad placendum, a fratribus mendicantibus repræsentata_. It appears by the latter end of the prologue, that these plays or interludes were not only played at Coventry, but in the other towns and places upon occasion. And possibly this may be the same play which Stow tells us was played in the reign of King Henry IV., which lasted for eight days. The book seems by the character and language to be at least 300 years old. It begins with a general prologue, giving the arguments of 40 pageants or gesticulations (which were as so many several acts or scenes) representing all the histories of both testaments, from the creation to the choosing of St _Matthias_ to be an apostle. The stories of the New Testament are more largely expressed, viz., the Annunciation, Nativity, Visitation; but more especially all matters relating to the Passion, very particularly, the Resurrection, Ascension, the Choice of St _Matthias_. After which is also represented the Assumption, and Last Judgment. All these things were treated of in a very homely style, as we now think, infinitely below the dignity of the subject; but it seems the _goût_ of that age was not so nice and delicate in these matters; the plain and incurious judgment of our ancestors being prepared with favour, and taking everything by the right and easiest handle. For example, in the scene relating to the Visitation: Maria.[86] _But, husband, of oo thyng I pray you most mekely, I have knowing that our cosyn Elizabeth with childe is, That it please yow to go to her hastyly, If ought we myth comfort her, it were to me blys._ Joseph. _A Gods sake, is she with child, sche? Than will her husband Zachary be mery. In Montana they dwelle, fer hence, so mot y[87] the, In the city of Juda, I know it verily; It is hence, I trowe, myles two a fifty, We ar like to be wery, or we come at that same, I wole with a good will, blessyd wyff Mary; Now go we forth then in Goddys name_, &c. A little before the Resurrection:--_Nunc dormient milites, et veniet anima Christi de inferno, cum_ Adam _et_ Eva, Abraham, John Baptist, _et aliis._ Anima Christi. _Come forth, Adam, and Eve with the, And all my fryndes that herein be, In paradys come forth with me In blysse for to dwelle. The fende of hell that is your foo He shall be wrappyd and woundyn in woo: Fro wo to welth now shall ye go, With myrth evyrmore to melle._ Adam. _I thank the, Lord, of thy grete grace That now is forgiven my gret trespace, Now shall we dwellyn in blyssful place, &c._ The last scene or pageant, which represents the day of judgment, begins thus:[88] _Michael._ Surgite, _All men aryse_, Venite ad judicium, _For now is set the High Justice, And hath assignyd the day of dome: Rape you redyly to this grett assyse. Both gret and small, all and sum, And of yowr answer you now avise, What you shall say, when that yow com, &c._ These and such like were the plays, which in former ages were presented publicly. Whether they had any settled and constant houses for that purpose, does not appear; I suppose not. But it is notorious that in former times there was hardly ever any solemn reception of princes or noble persons, but pageants, that is, stages erected in the open street, were part of the entertainment: on which there were speeches by one or more persons, in the nature of scenes; and be sure one of the speakers must be some saint of the same name with the party to whom the honour is intended. For instance, there is an ancient manuscript at Coventry, called the "Old Leet Book," wherein is set down in a very particular manner, p. 168, the reception of Queen Margaret, wife of Henry VI. who came to Coventry; and, I think, with her young son, Prince Edward, on the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, 35 Hen. VI. 1456. Many pageants and speeches were made for her welcome; out of all which I shall observe but two or three in the old English, as it is recorded:-- St. Edward. _Moder of mekenes, dame Margarete, princes most excellent, I king Edward wellcome you with affection cordial, Testefying to your highnes mekely myn entent. For the wele of the king and you hertily pray I shall, And for prince Edward my gostly chylde, who I love principal, Praying the, John Evangelist, my help therein to be, On that condition right humbly I give this ring to the._ John Evangelist. _Holy Edward, crowned king, brother in verginity, My power plainly I will prefer thy will to amplefy. Most excellent princes of wymen mortal, your bedeman will I be. I know your life so vertuous that God is pleased thereby. The birth of you unto this reme shall cause great melody: The vertuous voice of prince Edward shall dayly well encrease, St Edward his Godfader, and I shall prey therefore doubtlese._ St. Margaret. _Most notabul princes of wymen earthle, Dame Margarete, the chefe myrth of this empyre, Ye be hertely welcome to this cyte. To the plesure of your highnesse I will set my desyre; Both nature and gentlenesse doth me require, Seth we be both of one name, to shew you kindnesse; Wherefore by my power ye shall have no distresse._ _I shall pray to the prince that is endlese To socour you with solas of his high grace_; _He will here my petition, this is doubtlesse, For I wrought all my life that his will wace. Therefore, lady, when you be in any dredfull case, Call on me boldly, therof I pray you, And trust in me feythfully, I will do that may pay you._ In the next reign, as appears in the same book, fol. 221, another Prince Edward, son of King Edward IV., came to Coventry on the 28th of April, 14 Edward IV. 1474, and was entertained with many pageants and speeches, among which I shall observe only two; one was of St Edward again, who was then made to speak thus:-- _Noble Prince Edward, my cousin and my knight, And very prince of our line com yn dissent, I St Edward have pursued for your faders imperial right, Whereof he was excluded by full furious intent. Unto this your chamber, as prince full excellent, Ye be right welcome. Thanked be Crist of his sonde, For that that was ours is now in your faders honde._ The other speech was from St George, and thus saith the book:-- "---- _Also upon the condite in the Croscheping was St George armed, and a king's daughter kneling afore him with a lamb, and the fader and the moder being in a towre aboven beholding St George saving their daughter from the dragon, and the condite renning wine in four places, and minstralcy of organ playing, and St George having this speech underwritten_"-- _O mighty God, our all succour celestiall, Which this royme hast given in dower To thi moder, and to me George protection perpetuall_: _It to defend from enimys fer and nere, And as this mayden defended was here By that grace from this dragons devour, So, Lord, preserve this noble prince and ever be his socour._ +Love.+ I perceive these holy matters consisted very much of praying; but I pity poor St Edward the Confessor who, in the compass of a few years, was made to promise his favour and assistance to two young princes, of the same name indeed, but of as different and opposite interests as the two poles. I know not how he could perform to both. +True.+ Alas! they were both unhappy, notwithstanding these fine shows and seeming caresses of fortune; being both murdered, one by the hand, the other by the procurement, of Richard, Duke of Gloucester. I will produce but one example more of this sort of action or representations; and that is of later time, and an instance of much higher nature than any yet mentioned; it was at the marriage of Prince Arthur, eldest son of King Henry VII., to the Princess Catherine of Spain, ann. 1501. Her passage through London was very magnificent, as I have read it described in old MS. chronicle of that time.[89] The pageants and speeches were many; the persons represented, St Catherine, St Ursula, a senator, noblesse, virtue, an angel, King Alphonse, Job, Boetius, &c. Among others, one is thus described:--_"When this spech was ended, she held on her way tyll she came unto the standard in Chepe, where was ordeyned the fifth paygend made like an hevyn, theryn syttyng a personage representing the fader of hevyn, beyng all formyd of gold, and brennyng beffor his trone vii candyilis of wax standyng in vii candylstykis of gold, the said personage beyng environed with sundry hyrarchies off angelis, and sytting in a cope of most rich cloth of tyssu, garnishyd wyth stoon and perle in most sumptuous wyse. Foragain which said pagend upon the sowth syde of the strete stood at that tyme, in a hows wheryn that tyme dwellyd William Geffrey habyrdasher, the king, the queene, my lady the kingys moder, my lord of Oxynfford, wyth many other lordys and ladys, and perys of this realm, wyth also certayn ambassadors of France lately sent from the French king: and so passyng the said estatys, eyther guyving to other due and convenyent saluts and countenancs, so sone as hyr grace was approachid unto the sayd pagend, the fadyr began his spech as folowyth"_ Hunc veneram locum, septeno lumine septum. Dignumque Arthuri totidem astra micant. _I am begynyng and ende, that made ech creature. My sylfe, and for my sylfe, but man especially Both male and female, made aftyr myne aun fygure, Whom I joyned togydyr in matrimony, And that in paradyse, declaring opynly That men shall weddying in my chyrch solempnize, Fygurid and signifyed by the erthly paradyze._ _In thys my chyrch I am allway recydent As my chyeff tabernacle, and most chosyn place, Among these goldyn condylstikkis, which represent My catholyk chyrch shynyng affor my face, With lyght of feyth, wisdom, doctryne, and grace, And mervelously eke enflamyd toward me Wyth the [un]extyngwible fyre of charyte._ _Wherefore, my welbelovid dowthyr Katharyn, Syth I have made yow to myne awn semblance In my chyrch to be maried, and your noble childryn To regn in this land as in their enherytance, Se that ye have me in speciall remembrance: Love me and my chyrch yowr spiritual modyr. For ye, dispysing that oon, dyspyse that othyr._ _Look that ye walk in my precepts, and obey them well: And here I give you the same blyssyng, that I Gave my well beloved chylder of Israell; Blyssyd be the fruyt of your bely; Yower substance and frutys I shall encrease and multyply; Yower rebellious enimyes I shall put in yowr hand, Encreasing in honour both yow and your land._ +Love.+ This would be censured now-a-days as profane to the highest degree. +True.+ No doubt on't: yet you see there was a time, when people were not so nicely censorious in these matters, but were willing to take things in the best sense; and then this was thought a noble entertainment for the greatest king in Europe (such I esteem king Henry VII. at that time) and proper for that day of mighty joy and triumph. And I must farther observe out of Lord Bacon's "History of Henry VII." that the chief man who had the care of that day's proceedings was Bishop Fox, a grave counsellor for war or peace, and also a good surveyor of works, and a good master of ceremonies; and it seems he approv'd it. The said Lord Bacon tells us farther that, whosoever had those toys in compiling, they were not altogether pedantical. +Love.+ These things, however, are far from that which we understand by the name of a play. +True.+ It may be so; but these were the plays of those times. Afterwards, in the reign of King Henry VIII., both the subject and form of these plays began to alter, and have since varied more and more. I have by me a thing called "A Merry Play between the Pardoner and the Friar, the Curate and Neighbour Pratt." Printed the 5th of April 1533, which was 24 Henry VIII. (a few years before the dissolution of monasteries.) The design of this play was to ridicule Friars and Pardoners. Of which I'll give you a taste. To begin it, the Friar enters with these words:[90] Deus hic; _the holy trynyte Preserve all that now here be._ _Dere bretherne, yf ye will consyder The cause why I am com hyder, Ye wolde be glad to knowe my entent: For I com not hyther for mony nor for rent, I com not hyther for meat nor for meale, But I com hyther for your soules heale_, &c. After a long preamble he addresses himself to preach, when the Pardoner enters with these words: _God and St Leonarde send ye all his grace, As many as ben assembled in this place_, &c. and makes a long speech, showing his bulls and his reliques, in order to sell his pardons, for the raising some money towards the rebuilding _Of the holy chappell of sweet saynt Leonarde, Which late by fyre was destroyed and marde._ Both these speaking together with continual interruption, at last they fall together by the ears. Here the curate enters (for you must know the scene lies in the church): _Hold your hands; a vengeance on ye both two, That ever ye came hyther to make this ado, To polute my chyrche_, &c. Friar. _Mayster Parson, I marvayll ye will give lycence To this false knave in this audience To publish his ragman rolles with lyes. I desyred hym ywys more than ones or twyse To hold his peas tyll that I had done, But he would here no more than the man in the mone._ Pard. _Why sholde I suffre the, more than thou me? Mayster Parson gave me lycence before the. And I wolde thou knowest it I have relykes here, Other maner stuffe than thou dost bere: I wyll edefy more with the syght of it, Than with all thy pratynge of holy wryt; For that except that the precher himselfe lyve well, His predycacyon wyll helpe never a dell_, &c. Par. _No more of this wranglyng in my chyrch: I shrewe yowr hertys bothe for this lurche. Is there any blood shed here between these knaves? Thanked be God they had no stavys, Nor egotoles, for then it had ben wronge, Well, ye shall synge another songe._ Here he calls his neighbour Prat, the constable, with design to apprehend 'em, and set 'em in the stocks. But the Friar and Pardoner prove sturdy, and will not be stocked, but fall upon the poor Parson and Constable, and bang them both so well-favouredly, that at last they are glad to let 'em go at liberty: and so the farce ends with a drawn battle. Such as this were the plays of that age, acted in gentlemen's halls at Christmas or such like festival times by the servants of the family or strollers who went about, and made it a trade. It is not unlikely that the[91] lords in those days and persons of eminent quality had their several gangs of players, as some have now of fiddlers, to whom they give cloaks and badges. The first comedy that I have seen, that looks like regular, is "Gammer Gurton's Needle," writ,[92] I think, in the reign of King Edward VI. This is composed of five acts, the scenes unbroken, and the unities of time and place duly observed. It was acted at Christ's College in Cambridge, there not being as yet any settled and public theatres. +Love.+ I observe, Trueman, from what you have said, that plays in England had a beginning much like those of Greece; the Monologues and Pageants, drawn from place to place on wheels, answer exactly to the cart of Thespis, and the improvements have been by such little steps and degrees as among the ancients, till at last, to use the words of Sir George Buck (in his "Third University of England"), "Dramatic poesy is so lively express'd and represented upon the public stages and theatres of this city, as Rome in the auge (the highest pitch) of her pomp and glory, never saw it better performed, I mean (says he) in respect of the action and art, and not of the cost and sumptuousness." This he writ about the year 1631. But can you inform me, Trueman, when the public theatres were first erected for this purpose in London? +True.+ Not certainly; but I presume about the beginning of Queen Elizabeth's reign. For Stow, in his "Survey of London" (which book was first printed in the year 1598), says--"Of late years, in place of these stage-plays (_i.e._, those of religious matters) have been used comedies, tragedies, interludes, and histories, both true and feigned: for the acting whereof certain public places, as the Theatre, the Curtine, &c., have been erected." And the continuator of "Stow's Annals," p. 1004, says that in sixty years before the publication of that book (which was Ann. Dom. 1529), no less than seventeen public stages, or common playhouses, had been built in and about London. In which number he reckons five inns or common hostelries to have been in his time turned into playhouses--one Cockpit, Saint Paul's Singing-school, one in the Blackfriars, one in the Whitefriars, and one in former time at Newington Butts. And adds: Before the space of sixty years past, I never knew, heard, or read of any such theatres, stages, or playhouses, as have been purposely built within man's memory. +Love.+ After all, I have been told that stage-plays are inconsistent with the laws of this kingdom, and players made rogues by statute. +True.+ He that told you so strained a point of truth. I never met with any law wholly to suppress them: sometimes, indeed, they have been prohibited for a season; as in times of Lent, general mourning, or public calamities, or upon other occasions, when the government saw fit. Thus, by proclamation 7th of April, in the first year of Queen Elizabeth, plays and interludes were forbid until All-hallow-tide next following. Hollinshed, p. 1184.[93] Some statutes have been made for their regulation or information, not general suppression. By the stat. 39 Eliz. cap. 4[94] (which was made for the suppression of rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars) it is enacted "_That all persons that be, or utter themselves to be, proctors, procurers, patent gatherers, or collectors for goals, prisons, or hospitals, or fencers, bearwards, common players of interludes and minstrels, wandering abroad (other than players of interludes belonging to any baron of this realm, or any other honourable personage of greater degree, to be authoris'd to play under the hand and seal of arms of such baron or personage) all juglers, tinkers, pedlars, and petty chapmen, wand'ring abroad, all wand'ring persons, &c., able in body, using loytering, and refusing to work for such reasonable wages as is commonly given, &c. These shall be adjudged and deemed rogues, vagabonds, and sturdy beggars, and punished as such_." +Love.+ But this privilege of authorising or licensing is taken away by the stat. Jac. I., ch. 7, s. 1., and therefore all of them, as Mr Collier says, p. 242, are expressly brought under the aforesaid penalty without distinction. +True.+ If he means all players, without distinction, 'tis a great mistake. For the force of the queen's statute extends only to wandering players, and not to such as are the king or queen's servants, and established in settled houses by royal authority. On such the ill character of vagrant players (or, as they are now called, strollers) can cast no more aspersion, than the wandering proctors, in the same statute mentioned, on those of Doctors'-Commons. By a stat. made 3 Jac. I.[95] ch. 21, it was enacted, "_That if any person shall, in any stage-play, interlude, shew, may-game or pageant, jestingly or prophanely speak or use the holy name of God, Christ Jesus, or of the Trinity, he shall forfeit for every such offence_ 10_l._" The stat. 1 Charles I. ch. 1,[96] enacts, "_That no meetings, assemblies, or concourse of people shall be out of their own parishes, on the Lord's day, for any sports or pastime whatsoever, nor any bear-baiting, bull-baiting, interludes, common-plays, or other unlawful exercises and pastimes used by any person or persons within their own, parishes_." These are all the statutes that I can think of, relating to the stage and players; but nothing to suppress them totally, till the two ordinances of the Long Parliament, one of the 22d of October 1647, the other of the 11th [9th] of Feb. 1647;[97] by which all stage-plays and interludes are absolutely forbid; the stages, seats, galleries, &c., to be pulled down; all players, tho' calling themselves the king or queen's servants, if convicted of acting within two months before such conviction, to be punished as rogues according to law; the money received by them to go to the poor of the parish; and every spectator to pay five shillings to the use of the poor. Also cock-fighting was prohibited by one of Oliver's Acts of 31st March 1654. But I suppose nobody pretends these things to be laws. I could say more on this subject, but I must break off here and leave you, Lovewit; my occasions require it. +Love.+ Farewell, old Cavalier. +True.+ 'Tis properly said; we are almost all of us now gone and forgotten. FOOTNOTES: [80] This is afterwards said to be a large round brick building. Mr Steevens supposes, from the extent of it, that all the actors resided within its precincts. It was pulled down about the time of the Restoration, soon after the appearance of the following advertisement in the _Mercurius Politicus_, Tuesday, Feb. 14, to Tuesday, Feb. 21, 1661. "The Fortune Playhouse, situate between Whitecross Street and Golding Square, in the parish of St Giles, Cripplegate, with the ground thereunto belonging, is to be let to be built upon; where twenty-three tenements may be erected, with gardens; and a street may be cut through for the better accommodation of the buildings." (See edition of Shakespeare, 1778, i. 267.) From the following passage of "The English Traveller," by Heywood, 1633, sig. I 3, we find there was a picture or statue of Fortune before the building. "I'le rather stand here Like a statue in the forefront of your house For ever; like the picture of Dame Fortune Before the Fortune Play-house." [81] The Letters Patent under the Great Seal bear date the 21st June 1619. [82] This is confirmed by Kirkman who, in his preface to "The Wits; or, Sport upon Sport," 1672, says, The small compositions of which his work was made up, being scenes and parts of plays, were at this period "liked and approved by all, and they were the fittest for the actors to represent, there being little cost in cloaths, which often were in great danger to be seized by the then soldiers; who, as the poet sayes, _Enter the red coat, exit hat and cloak_, was very true, not only in the audience but the actors too, who were commonly not only stripp'd, but many times imprisoned, till they paid such ransom as the souldiers would impose upon them: so that it was hazardous to act any thing that required any good cloaths: instead of which painted cloath many times served the turn to represent rich habits." [83] "When the publique Theatres were shut up, and the actors forbidden to present us with any of their tragedies, because we had enough of that in earnest: and comedies, because the vices of the age were too lively and smartly represented; then all that we could divert ourselves with, were these humours and pieces of plays which, passing under the name of a merry conceited fellow, called "Bottom the Weaver," "Simpleton the Smith," "John Swabber," or some such title, were only allowed us, and that but by stealth too, and under pretence of rope-dancing or the like; and these being all that was permitted us, great was the confluence of the auditors; and these small things were as profitable and as great get-pennies to the actors as any of our late famed plays. I have seen _the Red Bull Playhouse_, which was a large one, so full, that as many went back for want of room as had entered; and as meanly as you may now think of these drols, they were then acted by the best comedians then and now in being; and I may say by some that then exceeded all now living, by name, the incomparable Robert Cox, who was not only the principal actor, but also the contriver and author of most of these farces."--Kirkman's Preface to "The Wits, or Sport upon Sport," 1672. [84] [Concerning Field the actor and dramatist, see introduction to his "Woman is a Weathercock," &c., xi. 3-6, 89-91, and Collier's "Memoirs of Actors," p. 206, _et seq._] Nathaniel Field, on the authority of Roberts the player (see his answer to Mr Pope's preface to Shakespeare), has been considered as the author of two plays: "A Woman is a Weathercocke," 1612, and "Amends for Ladies," 1618. He is also supposed to be the same person who assisted Massinger in "The Fatal Dowry." I suspect that Roberts was mistaken in these assertions, as I do not find any contemporary writer speak of Field as an author; nor is it mentioned by Langbaine, who would have noticed it, had he known the fact. It seems more probable that the writer of these plays was Nathaniel Field, M.A., Fellow of New College, Oxford, who wrote some Latin verses, printed in "Oxoniensis Academiæ Parentalia, 1625," and who, being of the same university with Massinger, might join with him, while there, in the composition of the play ascribed to them. Nathaniel Field above mentioned was celebrated in the part of "Bussy D'Ambois," first printed in 1607. On the republication of that play in 1641, he is thus spoken of in the Prologue:-- "_Field_ is gone, Whose action first did give it name, and one, Who came the neerest to him, is denide By his gray beard to shew the height and pride Of D'Ambois youth and braverie; yet to hold Our title still a foot, and not grow cold By giving it o're, a third man with his best Of care and paines defends our interest; As Richard he was lik'd, nor doe wee feare, In personating Dambois, hee'le appeare To faint, or goe lesse, so your free consent As heretofore give him encouragement." [85] P. 73, 4º. Edit. 1772. [86] [This and the other quotations were not correctly printed. See Halliwell's "Ludus Coventriæ," 1841, p. 121.] [87] [_Ibid._, p. 343.] [88] [See Halliwell's "Ludus Coventriæ," 1841, p. 401.] [89] [See a description of the espousals in Stow's "Chronicle," ed. 1615, fol. 483-4.] [90] [Compare vol. i. pp. 199, 201, &c.] [91] Till the twenty-fifth year of Queen Elizabeth, the queen had not any players; but in that year twelve of the best of all those who belonged to several lords were chosen, and sworn her servants.--_Stow's Annals_, p. 698. [92] [An error. This play, which has been long known not to be the first regular comedy, was probably performed about 1566.] [93] [See "English Drama and Stage," edit. Hazlitt, p. 19.] [94] [_Ibid._, p. 37.] [95] ["English Dramas and Stage," p. 42.] [96] [_Ibid._, pp. 59, 60.] [97] [But see _Ibid._, pp. 63-70.] ERRATA VOL. I. Page 62, for _goodness_ read _goddess_. VOL. II. ... 135, ... _knotted_ ... _notted_.[98] ... ... 216, ... _noboby_ ... _nobody_. VOL. III. ... 58,[99] ... _oppose_ ... _appose_. ... ... 59, ... _maketh_ ... _keepeth_. ... ... 71, ... _fault_ ... _faults_. ... ... 82, ... _so sore_ ... _to fore_. ... ... _ib._ ... _be fed_ ... _to be fed_. ... ... 83, l. 17. The correspondent thinks this line belongs to _Omnes Famulæ_. ... ... 88, for _had chid_ read _chid_. ... ... 95, ... _I ever_ ... _ever I_. ... ... 97, ... _wage-pasty_ ... _way-pasty_.[100] ... ... 99, ... _he_ ... _ye_. ... ... _ib._ ... _ield_ ... _yelde_. ... ... 105, ... _to please_ ... _it please_. ... ... 108, ... _a master_ ... _an M_. ... ... 117, ... _as much_ ... _so much_. ... ... 118, ... _make a_ ... _make me a_. ... ... 121, ... _another ... _another but_. than_ ... ... _ib._ ... _readiness_ ... _a readiness_. ... ... 122, ... _other's_ ... _others'_. ... ... _ib._ ... _point ... _point whereof_ wherefore_. ... ... 125, ... _draw ye_ ... _draw we_. ... ... 128, ... _thou goose_ ... _you goose_. ... ... 139, ... _Not if all ... _Nor if all the_. the_ ... ... 140, ... _where or ... _where nor how_. how_ ... ... 158, ... _all men_ ... _of all men_. ... ... 178, ... _halse-aker_ ... _half-acre_.[101] VOL. V. ... 115, ... _Alvearic_ ... _Alvearie_. ... ... 285, ... _Got_ ... _Get_. VoL. IX. ... 98, ... _collection_ ... _collation_. ... ... _ib._} ... _moldash_ ... _molash_. ... ... 332,} ... _moldash_ ... _molash_. ... ... 205, ... _Amoretta_ ... _Amoretto_. VOL. X. ... 274, ... _Foresaw_ ... _Foreseen_. VOL. XI. ... 436, ... _Sir Thomas_ ... _St. Thomas_. FOOTNOTES: [98] See Nares. ed. 1859, _v._ Nott. We still have the vulgarism _nut_ for the head; but it more properly means a head with the hair cut close. [99] These errors in "Ralph Roister Doister" have been pointed out by a correspondent, who states that he has detected them on a personal collation of the original copy at Eton College. But many of the variations noticed by this gentleman have been intentional corrections of the old copy. [100] Yet in "Jack Juggler" (ii. 141), _wage-pasty_ occurs. [101] So in "Appius and Virginia" (iv. 136)-- "Hard by Hodge's half-acre, at Gaffer Miller's stile." INDEX TO NOTES. INDEX TO THE NOTES. Abhominable, ii. 69 Abraham-men, iii. 171 Absolutions, tariff for, xi. 465 Accointenance, i. 79 Accombred, i. 299 Accomplished Woman, 1656, xiv. 483 Acquaince, i. 105 Actors' Remonstrance, x. 348 Addison, Joseph, ix. 490 Address, xiv. 326 Adonai, i. 109 Adultery, punishment for, xiv. 475-6 Adventures of Five Hours, a play, xv. 185-320 Adventures or insurances, xi. 137 A friend in court is worth a penny in purse, prov. i. 178 After kissing comes greater kindness, prov. xiii. 114 Agnes' Eve, St, xii. 21 Aim, to cry, v. 225 Ajax Oïleus, x. 132 Albricias, xv. 292 Albumazar, a play, xi. 294-421 Alcazar, battle of, xi. 213 Alder speed, i. 135 Alimony, Lady, a play, xiv. 273-367 Ale, i. 161, 185 -- Derby, xi. 234 Ales, church and other, xiii. 503 Alestake, i. 191 Alexander and Lodwick, a play, xi. 239 Algates, i. 237 Almond for a parrot, an, x. 534 Alva, Duke of, xv. 231 Amadis of Gaul, xv. 91 Amain, xiv. 182 Ambergris, xiii. 490 Ambree, Mary, xi. 111 Amends for Ladies, a play, xi. 88-172 America, viii. 406; xii. 135 Amias [Emaas], i. 333 Amphitruo of Plautus, xi. 314 Anagrams, xiv. 483 Ancients, xiii. 291 Andromana, a play, xiv. 194-271 Angoulême, Earl of, viii. 251 Antiquary, the, a play, xiii. 411-523 Apollo Shroving, a play, xi. 196 Apollonius of Tyana, xi. 310 Appaireth, i. 101 Appius and Virginia, a play, 1575, iv. 100-55 Apple-squires, xiii. 125 Appoline, St, vi. 74 Apricocks, xiv. 344 Arcadia, Sydney's, xiii. 468 Aretine's pictures, xiii. 309 Argiers, xiv. 327 Argosies, xii. 100 Aristippus, iv. 15 _et seq._, v. 286 Aristophanes, ix. 376 Armada, the Spanish, vi. 447 Arrayed (or rayed), i. 78, 178 Arride, xiii. 445 Artemisia (or southernwood), xii. 144 Arthur, King, iv. 255 _et seq._ Arundel, xi. 70 As brisk as a body-louse, prov. iii. 209 Asinigo, xiii. 519 Assoil, vii. 169; xv. 253 As soon goeth to market the lamb's fell as the sheep's, prov. i. 78 Astræa, D'Urfe's, xiii. 468 Astrology, xi. 301-2 _et seq._ As true as the skin between thy brows, prov., iii. 244 Athelwold, vi. 27 At nale, i. 166 Audience, direct allusions to, from the stage, vi. 288, 327; viii. 456 Aums ace, ii. 35; xii. 243 Aunt, xiii. 70, 160; xiv. 448 Autolycus, xiii. 486 Automatons, xiii. 230 Avoutry, i. 175; iii. 151, &c. Away the mare, i. 57 A young man's darling, an old man's warling, prov., x. 303 Babylon, i. 162 Backare, quod Mortimer to his sow, iii. 65 Backrag (or Baccarach), xiii. 216 Bacon, Francis, iv. 251; xiii. 462 Bacon, Friar, vii. 357; xi. 84, 252 Baker, Henry, an actor, viii. 78 Bale, John, i. 278 _et seq._ Bale or pair of dice, xi. 221 Bales, Peter, viii. 41 Ball, John, xiv. 488 Balloon, a game, vii. 50 Banbury, xii. 248 Bandello, M., x. 115 Bands, starched, xi. 328-9 Bankes's horse, xiv. 508-9 Barbary, xi. 213, 215 Barclay, Alexander, viii. 47 Barkley (or Barclay), Sir R., xii. 538 ---- Sir W., xii. 538-627 Barrey, Lodowick, x. 266-380 Bate me an ace, quoth Bolton, prov., iv. 77 Batteries, xiii. 218 Bayard, xiii. 94 Bay-window, xiv. 403 Bear and Ragged Staff, viii. 174 Bear in hand, to, x. 303 Beau Disconu, Le, a romance, i. 401 Beaumont and Fletcher, xii. 19; xiv. 194 Bedlams, iii. 170-1 Beer, broken, xii. 228 ---- four and six shilling, xiii. 12, 43 Beggars, frauds of, xii. 108 Beggars'-bush, vii. 335 Behight, i. 248 Behu, Mrs, ix. 469; xiii. 178 Bell, book, and candle, x. 309 Bells, to ring the, backwards, xiii. 230 Belsavage, the, a sign, viii. 116 Belvidere, or the Garden of the Muses, 1600, ix. 111 Benchers, xiii. 290-1 Benefit of clergy, viii. 244 Benlowes, E., xiv. 11 Berew, i. 246 Bergen-op-Zoom, ix. 293 Bermondsey, i. 335 Bermudas, the, xi. 137; xiv. 333 Bestial, i. 12, 13 Betso, xiii. 460 Betterton, Tho., xv. 196 Bevis of Hampton, xi. 70 Beyond Lawrence of Lancashire, prov., xi. 85 Bias, xiv. 454 Biggon, xiii. 288 Bilboa blades, x. 218 Bill of the plague, xiv. 449 Bills, x. 342; xi. 469 Birdbolt, xi. 200 Black, note on the word, xii. 245 Blackfriars, xi. 111 Black's her eye, prov., ix. 78 Blank, the, ii. 35 Ble, i. 251 Blind eats many a fly, the, prov., x. 503 Blind [men] can judge no colour, prov., v. 293 Blowpoint, xiii. 435 Blue coats or badges, x. 349 Boccaccio, Gio. xiii. 105 Bodenham, John, ix. 112 Booker, John, xiv. 396-7 Book-holder, viii. 17, 87 Boot, the Scotch, xi. 66 Bold, v., i. 182 Bonduca, a play, xii. 19 Bonerly, i. 243 Bongrace, Master, ii. 113 Bonner, Bp. iv. 244 Borachio, xv. 215 Bordella's blouses, xiv. 344 Boston, our Lady of, i. 337 Bothwell, Lord, xi. 224 Botolph, St, i. 334 Boulogne, our Lady of, iii. 199-200 Bourbonne-les-Bains, xiv. 52 Bowyer, Mich., xiii. 102 Brach, i. 185 Brai, the story of the physician of, vi. 207 Brandt, Sebastian, viii. 47 Brathwaite, R., xii. 23 Brennus, xii. 449 _et seq._ Brewen (or Bruin), Alderman, xii. 91, _et seq._ Brigand harness, i. 251 Bright, Dr Timothy, viii. 41 Brimstone, quick, i. 179 Bristol, George Digby, Earl of, xv. 1-107, 187 Britain, ancient divisions of, xii. 516 Brome, Richard, xiv. 480 Bromfield, Mr, xiii. 209 Broom, i. 65 ----, "A new broom sweeps clean," prov., iv. 21 Brothers of the blade, xiv. 330 Browne, Robert, xiii. 227 Buck, Paul, vi. 13 Buckets, fire, names inscribed on, xiii. 230 Buckingham, Duke of, v. 15, 37 Burbage, R., xi. 5 Burport--"taw halts of Burport," i. 158 Butcher (or Boucher), Richard, xiii. 413 Butler, S., xiii. 329 Butler's box, the, ix. 103; x. 299 Buxton, i. 334 Buzzardism, xiv. 357 Bye and main, xiv. 427 By the lock, a phrase, xiii. 168 Cacus, xii. 516 Calderon, Pedro, xv. 187, 193-4 Calisto and Meliboea, i. 52 _et seq._ Calvary, Mount, i. 332 Calvinists, exiled, xiii. 295 Camoëns, Lois de, x. 468 Camomile, xiii. 138 Candles, holy, iii. 188 Cannon Street, x. 547 Cape, i. 162 Caperhay, vii. 421 Cap of maintenance, xii. 109 Caracts, xiv. 325 Carew, Thomas, xi. 510; xiv. 372 Carfax, vii. 333 Carouches, x. 336; xi. 202 Carpet-knight, viii. 173 Carry-coals, a phrase, viii. 417 _Carta blanca_, xv. 72 Cartwright, W., xii. 204-318; xiii. 203 Cary, Henry, Viscount Falkland, xv. 111 Case, Thomas, xiv. 516 Cassandra, x. 132 Castara [Lady Lucia Herbert], xiii. 324 Casti, Luigi, xiv. 480 Cat in pan, to turn, a phrase, iv. 41 Cats, gibbed or gib, xiii. 31 Catwade, i. 341 Cauls, xv. 90-1 Caveare, xii. 236 Cervantes, xiii. 105 Chadders, xiii. 231 Chains of gold worn by persons of quality, xi. 324-5 Chalk, to sin in, xiii. 287; xiv. 331 Challenges, etiquette of, xi. 224, 389 Chamberlain, Robert, xiv. 3, 9 Chanticleers, the London, a play, xii. 320-60 Charles I., xii. 206 ---- II., xv. 194 Charmers, xii. 505 Chase, the, vii. 41 Chaucer, Geffrey, xii. 240-2, 286 Chelsea College, xii. 277-8 Cherry-pit, i. 246 Chess, game of, ix. 387 Cheston [Cheshunt] nunnery, x. 215 Chettle, Henry, viii. 95-6, 200-327 Chopines, x. 367 Christ-cross, ix. 42 Christmas, xiii. 20-1 Chrysome, xiii. 280 Churchyard, T., ix. 118 Cicero's treatise, "De Republica," xiii. 476 Citizenship, xii. 136 City Match, a play, xiii. 200-320 City Nightcap, the, a play, xiii. 99-197 Clerkenwell Green, xi. 98 Cloak for every rain, to have a, prov., xiii. 56 Clocks, German, xii. 231 Cloth, flinching of, xii. 259 Cloth-dealers in Watling Street, iv. 243 Clouds, the, by Aristophanes, ix. 376 Clown, the, in plays, iv. 160 Coaches, x. 336-7 Cob's pound, xv. 32 Cockatrice, xiii. 499-500 Cock-sure, vi. 67 Cole, old, vii. 476 Coll my dog, iii. 8, 9 Cologne, three kings of, iii. 200 Combat, laws of, x. 129 Complaisant Companion, the, a jest-book, x. 115 Comptes du Monde aventureux, xiv. 480 Conduits, speeches delivered from, xiii. 243 Constable, Henry, ix. 113-14 Content--"To go look content," a phrase, xiii. 141 Contention between Liberality and Prodigality, a play, viii. 330-83 Convey, i. 159 Cooke, John, xi. 174-289 Cooke, Joshua, ix. 2 Cool his heels, to, a phrase, xiii. 52 Cooling card, xiii. 505 Coomb House, xiii. 14, 16 Cooper's "_Thesaurus_" referred to, x. 218 Copernicus, i. 38 Copesmate, xiii. 30 Copland, Robert, viii. 19 Corbet, Bp., xii. 248 Cornelia, a play, v. 176-252 Cornelys, St, i. 336; vi. 74 Corner-cap, iii. 11 Corney, Bolton, ix. 100; xiii. 203 Coryat, Thomas, iii. 200; xi. 313; xii. 227 Costermongers, xiii. 125 Cotswold or Cotsol, iii. 137 Cotterel, Sir Clement, i. xv. Counters, the London, x. 344; xiii. 41 Coventry Mysteries, the, i. 374 Cow-cross, xi. 98 Cowley, Abr., xv. 199 Coxcomb Park, xiii. 14 Crabbed age and youth, &c., a song, quoted, xiii. 89 Cramp-rings, xii. 255-6 Crane, Sir Francis, xiii. 233 Cranes in the Vintry, the three, iv. 87; vii. 357 Creature, i. 123 Creeping to the cross, x. 236; xii. 255-6 Cries of London, xi. 436 Crofts, Cecilia, xiv. 372 Crome, i. 341 Cromwell, Oliver, ix. 334, 348; xii. 316; xiv. 475-6 Cross, red, houses marked with a, xiv. 405 Crotchets, xiii. 15 Crowned cups, xii. 39 Croydon sanguine, iv. 80 Crystals, pair of [the eyes], xiii. 55 Cucking-stool, xii. 127 Cue, xi. 225 Cuerpo, xiii. 278 Cupboard-beds, xv. 216 Cupid's arrows, fable of, xii. 31 Cupid's Revenge, a play, xiv. 194 Curfew-bell, the, x. 251 Curtains at theatres, xiv. 97 Curtal, iii. 211 Cushion, beside the, x. 237 Custom, xiv. 74 Cut, xiii. 85 Cut and long tail, xiii. 84-5 Cutpurse, Moll, xi. 90 Cutter, xiii. 16, 17 Dagenham, i. 336 Daisy, to leap at a, iii. 251 Danes, red-haired, v. 121 Daniel, S., ix. 114; xi. 449; xiii. 438 Danter, John, ix. 120 Darby's bands, ii. 362 Darius' doleful strain, King, iv. 159 Daubing--"There is craft in daubing," prov., i. 159 Davenant, Sir W., xi. 504; xv. 199 Davenport, Robert, xiii. 99-197; xiv. 7 David's, St, i. 339 Davies, Sir John, ix. 115 Daw, a fool, i. 8 Day, John, ix. 100 Daylight, to burn, prov., v. 115 Day's-man, iii. 14 Death, to die the, i. 291-2 Deboshed, xiii. 195 Dedekindus, viii. 73 Deep Ditch, xii. 127 Dejanira, ix. 169 Delayed, i. 81; xiii. 114 Demains, xiv. 346 Denham, Sir John, xiv. 245 Denis, St, i. 339 Derby ale, xi. 234 Deuce-ace, ii. 35 Devil, the, as a character in plays, ii. 307; iii. 205 ----, "The devil is in the horologe," prov., iii. 101 ----, "Who dips with the devil hath need of a long spoon," prov., iv. 118 ----, a tavern so called, xiii. 22; xiv. 454 ----, "The devil is dead," prov., xiii. 141 Dewes, Sir Simonds, xiii. 21 Dice, bale or pair of, xi. 221 Digby, Sir Kenelm, xii. 245, 362; xv. 4 ---- George, Earl of Bristol, xv. 1-107, 187 ---- Lady Venetia, xii. 362 Dionysius of Syracuse, iv. 29 Dismissed, xiv. 350 Divining-rod, the, v. 402 Doccy, i. 188 Dod, John xii. 299 Dod's blessing, xii. 299 Dodsley, R., i., xv., _et alibi_; xi. 360-1 Dodsley's Plays, note on the edit. of 1825-8, vi. 4 Dogberry, Shakespeare's, xiv. 333. Dole, xi. 208-9 Dolent, i. 82 Dormer, Sir Clement, i., xv. Dottrel, the, iv. 68 Dovercourt in Essex, viii. 399 Downton, Thomas, viii. 19 Drake, Sir F., xiii. 256 Drawers at taverns, xiii. 19 Dreaming of husbands on St Agnes' Eve, xii. 21 Drolleries and interludes, xv. 410 Drought, great, of 1592, viii. 37 Drunkenness, statute against, x. 335, 354 ----, excess of, xi. 251, 345 Dryden, John, vii. 7-8, 78 Ducarel, Dr, xiii. 419 Ducie family, xiv. 4 Ducking, xii. 127 Duels in England, xi. 390 Dulwich College, xv. 408 Dumb Knight, the, a play, x. 108-200 Duns Scotus, x. 57 Dunstan, St, viii. 391 _et seq._ Duppa, Brian, xiii. 201 Duretta, xiii. 222 D'Urfé, Honoré, xiii. 468 Dutch, the, iii. 325 Dyer, Sir Edward, viii. 73; ix. 455 Eagles, young, v. 319 Earle's Microcosmography, xiii. 475 Early up, and never the near, prov., xi. 146 Echineis, the, xiii. 525 Echo poetry, vii. 148; xi. 477 Ecstasy, xiii. 511 Edmondsbury, St, i. 337 Edmund Ironside, xii. 287 Edward I., xii. 309 Edward VI., i. 431 Edwards, Richard (the elder), iv. 3-104; viii. 387 Eggs for money, xiii. 92 Elements, Interlude of the Four, i. 4-50 Elfrid, vi. 27 Elfrida, vi. 27 Elinor, Queen, xii. 309 Elizabeth, Q., viii. 22; ix. 161; x. 487; xv. 427-30 Elms, the, in Smithfield, iii. 324 Eltham, Sir John, viii. 105 Elvira, a play, xv. 1-107 Embalming, i. 60 England--"If England to itself," &c., xii. 468 Englishmen for my Money, a play, x. 470-564 Ennewed, i. 62 Erastus and Perseda, v. 255 Erragon, i. 162 Eschewed, i. 77 Essex man, an, xiv. 467 Eterne, i. 11 Eudoxus of Cnidus, xiii. 452 Eulenspiegel, vii. 358 Euphorbium, i. 178 Euripides, the "Hecuba" of, iv. 263 _Euripus Euboicus_, vii. 37 Evans, Dr, xii. 20 Evelyn, John, xi. 251; xv. 199 Everichone, i. 138 Every Man, the Summoning of, an interlude, i. 94-142 Exchange, the Royal, x. 487 Eyes, kissing the, xi. 396 ----, eloquence of the, xiii. 438 Fabell, Peter, x. 207 Faces about, xiv. 380 Fagaries, xiv. 289 Fair Quarrel, A, a play, xi. 139 Fair words maketh fools fain, prov., i. 117 Falantado (or Falanta), viii. 22 Falkland, Henry, Viscount, xv. 111-184 Fall, _v._, i. 285 Falstaff originally called _Oldcastle_, xi. 152 Farewell, fortypence, prov., x. 526 Far fetched and dear bought is good for ladies, prov., iii. 223 Fast and loose, xiii. 174 Faustulus, xii. 490 Favell, i. 164 Fere, i. 188 Fescennine poetry, xii. 312 Field, Nathaniel, xi. 2-172; xv. 416 Fifteens, x. 299-300 Firedrakes, ix. 572 Fisher, Jasper, xii. 446-536 Fishes, strange, xiii. 248, 259, 267 Fit, i. 246; ii. 48 Fitz-geoffrey, Charles, x. 110 Flageolet, the, viii. 31 Flemings, iii. 325 Fletchers' Company, iv. 19; xiii. 40 Fliegen, Eve, story of, xiii. 236-7 Floods, notices of, viii. 38 Floralia, xiii. 435 Flout, xiv. 190 Flower, Francis, iv. 251 Flowers, language of, xii. 144 Flute, the, viii. 31 Fodes, i. 243, 247 Foist, xiv. 385 Fool, i. 71 Fools--Begging for a fool, xiii. 246 ---- bauble, xi. 57 ---- coat, xiii. 30 Fools have fortune, xiv. 474 Fordoth, i. 68 Fortune theatre, xi. 136, 434; xv. 406 Foster, Sir Stephen, xii. 90, _et seq._ Found, i. 244 Fountain, the, a tavern, xiii. 14 Fox, a sword, xiv. 387 Fox, intoxicate, xiii. 28 Free jug or bottle, the, xii. 336 French, broken, &c., put into the mouths of speakers (often improperly), vi. 200; vii. 139, 162 ---- pedlars, vi. 202; viii. 169 Friar Fox and Gillian of Brentford, a play, viii. 19 Friars-Limiters, i. 216 Fuimus Troes: the True Trojans, a play, xii. 446-536 Fulbeck, W. iv. 251 Fullam, xii. 124 Fulwell, Ulpian, iii. 304-59; ix. 367 Funeral customs, xiii. 81-2 Funeral of Richard Cordelion, a play, viii. 206 Galaor, Sir, xv. 91 Gale, Samuel, xiii. 419 Galileo, xi. 317 Gallant, treatise of a, i. 174 Gallo-belgicus, xi. 513 Games, statute against unlawful, iii. 9 ---- noticed, ix. 387-8; xii. 120-1; xiii. 238-9 Gaming at Christmas, xiii. 20-1 Gammer Gurton's Needle, a comedy, iii. 164-256; x. 427 Garden-houses, xii. 119 Garlands, xiii. 37 Garlic, supposed to be a play or ballad, xi. 434 Gamier, Robert, v. 178 _et seq._ Gazet, xiii. 477 George, the, at Waltham, xiv. 405 George-a-Green, viii. 151 Gerbier, Charles, xiv. 7 Gillivors, xii. 144 Girdle--"May my girdle break," a phrase, xiii. 10 Give a thing, and take a thing, xiv. 463 Glass House, the, xiv. 449 Glaucus and Seilla, x. 507 Gleek, a game, xiv. 396 Goad, Dr John, xv. 400 God, i. 100 ---- is a good man, ii. 73 ---- refuse me, xiii. 5 God's sonties, an oath, xiv. 145 Godfrey of Boulogne, xii. 137 Golding Square, xv. 406 Gold used in medicine, xii. 116 Gomersall, Robert, xiv. 488 Good, i. 152 Goodman, Nicholas, xiii. 414 Goshawk, haggard, xiii. 161 Got--"be got," i. 107 Gough, John, x. 384; xiv. 10 ----, Robert, x. 384 Grandmother, to see one's, xiii. 33 Grange, Laird of, xi. 224 Gredaline petticoat, xiv. 418 Green gowns, to give, a phrase, viii. 25-6 Greene, Robert, viii. 5, 8, 10-11; xi. 519; xiii. 105 ----, Thomas, actor, xi. 176 _et seq._ "Green's Tu Quoque," a play, xi. 174-289 Gresham, Sir T., x. 487 ---- family, xi. 503 Grim the Collier of Croydon, a play, viii. 386-470 Groom, i. 252; iv. 283 Groom-porter or box-keeper, xii. 121 Grotius, Hugo, xiii. 254 Guardon, i. 206 Guilpin, Edward, vi. 15 Gwendoline, xii. 521 Gypsies, xiii. 174 Habington, Thomas, xiii. 323 ----, W., xiii. 321-409 Hair, combing the, on the stage, xiv. 394 Haled, xiv. 479 Hales, blood of, i. 338 Half-moon, xiv. 456 Hall, Old, viii. 24 Hampden, John, xii. 316 Handsel, vi. 403 Happily, xiii. 362 Happy man, happy dole, prov., iv. 21 Harbinger, xi. 307 Harlot, i. 253 Harlotry, viii. 351 Haro, clameur de, xii. 253 Harold Harefoot, viii. 233 Harpocrates, xii. 469 Harry groats, xiii. 232, 256 Harvey, Gabriel, viii. 3, 4 _et seq._ 10, 11 Haslewood, Joseph, i. 391-3 Hats worn by women, x. 16 Hatton, Sir Chr., vii. 75 Haught, xiv. 442 Haughton, W., x. 470-564 Hawkins, Sir Richard, xiii. 256 ----, W., xi. 196 Haxter, xiv. 282, 322 Hay, the, a dance, xii. 341 Haydigee, xii. 507 Hazard, a game, ii. 34 Hazlitt, W., x. 205 Heal, i. 212 Health-drinking, practices at, xiii. 441 Hearne, Thomas, xv. 400 Heart of grace, xii. 212 Hector, xi. 447 Heildom, xiii. 43 Heir, the, a play, xi. 502-84 Heirlooms, xi. 354 Hele, i. 129 Helmets plumed with ostrich feathers, xiv. 45 Hend, i. 250 Hengistus, xii. 287 Henslowe, P., xi. 4, 55 Herbs and flowers strewed at weddings, x. 366 Hercules and Lychas, xiii. 515 Hercules, x. 169; xii. 516 He who sups with the devil has need of a long spoon, prov., viii. 460-1 Heywood, John, i. 196-238, 325 _et seq._ ----, Thomas, i. 329; iv. 348; xi. 177, 179; xii. 95 Hickscorner, an interlude, i. 143-95 Hieronimo, part of, iv. 361 ----. See _Jeronymo_ Highgate, viii. 380 High men and low men, xii. 244 Hight (or hyght), i. 129 Highwayman, xiv. 382 Hill, Aaron, vi. 27 Historia Histrionica, xv. 400-31 Histriomastix, Prynne's, xiii. 226 Hobby-horse, viii. 24; xi. 267 ----, "The hobby-horse is forgot," xi. 267 Hofman, Goody, xiii. 228 Hogsnorton, ii. 31 Holland's Leaguer, xiii. 414 Holt, i. 148 Homer, xi. 303 Hoodman-blind, x. 221 Horse-stealing, viii. 27 Hot-cockles, ix. 102; xv. 381 How a Man may Choose a Good Wife from a Bad, a play, ix. 2-96 Howard, Mr Henry, xv. 189-90 How can that be? xiv. 458 Howleglass, Tyl, vii. 358 Hudson, Thomas, ix. 116 Huggermugger, x. 90 Hughes, Thomas, iv. 251 Humorous, xiv. 296 Humphrey, to dine with Duke, vi. 553; xiii. 31, 264 Hundred Merry Tales, A, a story-book, i. 25 Hungarians, x. 227, 244 Huntley, Dick, viii. 17 Hussey, xiv. 331 Hymen's Triumph, a masque, xi. 449 I am sorry for thee, but I cannot weep, prov., vi. 319 Iceland (or Isling) dogs, x. 321 If you know not me, you know nobody, prov., vii. 213 Image of Idleness, viii. 72 In danger, iii. 62 Indies, West, xi. 213 In dock, out nettle, prov. iii. 90 Ingelend, Thomas, ii. 266-320 Ingenious and ingenuous, xiii. 53; xiv. 281 Inkhorn phrases, viii. 70 Ink in the pen, ii. 92 Ink-pot terms, viii. 70 Inns of Court, Christmas at the, xiii. 20-1 Intellection, i. 124 Intreat, i. 237 Ireland, xi. 187 Irish, ii. 34 Irish earth, properties of, xii. 486 Irish footmen, xi. 121 Irus, xi. 548 Isle of Dogs, a play, viii. 6-8 Italian poets, study of the, viii. 5, 29, 72 Jack, the, at bowls, xii. 165 Jack Drum's Entertainment, prov., vi. 324 Jack Juggler, an interlude, ii. 104-57 Jack o' Lent, xi. 262 Jack Straw, a play, vi. 376-414 Jack will be a gentleman, prov., xii. 156 Jacob and Esau, an interlude, ii. 186-264 Jacques, Holy, xiv. 65 James I., ix. 114; xi. 328-9 James in Gales, St, i. 336 Janty, xiv. 401 Jehosaphat, i. 332 Jeronimo, a play in two parts, iv. 346-96; v. 3-173; xiv. 82 ----, go by, go by, v. 109 Jet, i. 69 Jews furnished with large noses on the stage, x. 481 Jis (for Jesus), iii. 225 John, King, Shakespeare's play of, xiv. 136 John, Sir, ii. 25; x. 224-5 Jonson, Ben. iv. 361; v. 3, 4, 56, 70, 103, 147; viii. 97; ix. 393; xi. 504 Jordan, Thomas, xiv. 9 Judas colour, v. 121 Julian (or Jyl) of Brentford, viii. 19 Jumped, xiv. 248 Jump out, to, xiii. 62-3 _Ka kob_, jackdaw's, ii. 215 Kempe, W., viii. 4, 7; ix. 194 Kest, i. 179 Killigrew, Anne, xiv. 375 ----, Henry, xiv. 375 ----, Sir Robert, xiv. 371 ----, Thomas, xiv. 370-535 ----, Sir Will., xiv. 375 Kind-heart, a dentist, xii. 139 Kind will creep, &c., prov. i. 113 King and queen chosen on Twelfth Day, xii. 132 King's-evil, xii. 256 Kirkman, Francis, xv. 410-11 Kirksley, Prioress of, viii. 248 Knack, a, to Know a Knave, a play, vi. 504-91 Knight, J., xiv. 13 Knight of the Bath, creation of a, iv. 349 ---- Post, vi. 533 ---- Sun, x. 322; xii. 12; xiii. 42; xiv. 478 Knights, King James I.'s, x. 272; xi. 59 Knowles, Sir Robert, xii. 193 Knox, John, xii. 300; xiii. 228 Kyd, Thomas, iv. 346-96; v. 3 _et seq._; xiv. 82 Ladies' garden, xiv. 343 Lamb, Charles, x. 87 Lame, to do, i. 252 Lamphire, John, xiii. 203 Lance-prisado, xiv. 328 Lapis lasuli, viii. 239 Latten, i. 183; ix. 393 Lattice, the red, viii. 241; ix. 510 Laud, i. 131 Laundress, x. 275, 317; xiii. 231 Lawrence of Lancashire, xi. 85 Lay the country, to, xiii. 253 Lead apes in hell, to, prov. x. 518 Leather, to cut thongs out of other people's, xiv. 315 Le Brun, Hugh, Earl of March, viii. 251 Legs, to make, viii. 81; xiv. 443 Leicester, Earl of, viii. 174 Leman, xiii. 499 Leme, i. 64 Lesing, i. 159, 246 Lest, i. 80, 247 Let the cat wink, prov. i. 265 Levite's Revenge, the, xiv. 488 Lewt, i. 255 Libbards, xiii. 282; xiv. 325 Lieger, xiii. 271 Lightening before death, the, viii. 266 Like lettuce, like lips, prov., iii. 23 Lincolnshire bagpipes, vi. 393 Lind, i. 255 Lindabrides, xiv. 478 Lingua, a play, ix. 332-463 Liripup, iii. 322 Litchfield, Rich, _pseud._ viii. 67 Lithgow, W., xii. 226 Little John, viii. 106, _et seq._ Loave-ears, xiv. 321 Lob's pound, xv. 32 Locrine, a play, xii. 484 Lodge, Thomas, vii. 98, _et seq._; ix. 114 Lok (or Lock), Henry, ix. 116 Lombards, i. 266 London Bridge, the building of, on wool-packs, xii. 341 Longeth, i. 254 Long Meg, a play, xi. 115, 434 Look about you, a play, vii. 386-506 Lost Lady, the, a play, xii. 538-627 Love me little, and love me long, prov., viii. 83 Loves, for all the, iii. 254 Lucan, v. 244 Ludgate prison, xii. 127, 192-3 Ludus Coventriæ, xv. 418 _Lues Venerea_, x. 10; xii. 296 Lug, i. 231 Lust's Dominion, a play, xiii. 178; xiv. 93-192 Lute-strings and grey paper, viii. 26 Luxur, x. 8 Lye, xiii. 38 Lyly (or Lily), John, viii. 45 Machiavelli, N., viii. 72, 391 Machin, Lewis, x. 108-200 Macke, the, a play, ix. 388 Macquerellas, xiv. 296 Magisterium, i. 359 Mahomet and the mountain, vi. 410 Mahometans, xi. 318 Maids say nay and take, prov., viii. 308; x. 140 Maked, i. 252 Malacoton, xii. 236 Mandevile, Sir John, xii. 227 Mandubratius, xii. 508 Man of war, i. 185 Mantichora (or Mandragora), ix. 559 Mantle, Sir Thomas, viii. 105 Mapes, Walter, xii. 240 Marchpanes, xii. 235 _Mare Liberum_ and _Mare Clausum_, xiii. 254 Marian, Maid, viii. 113 _et seq._ Marius and Sylla, Wars of, vii. 105 _et seq._ Markham, Gervase, x. 108-200 ----, Robert, x. 111 Mark's at Venice, St, i. 340 Marlowe, Chr., viii. 8; ix. 117; xiv. 93-6 Marmion, Shakerly, xiii. 411-523 Marriage customs, xiii. 81-2 Marriage Night, the, a play, xv. 111-184 Marriage of Wit and Science, an interlude, ii. 322-94 Marshall, Mrs, an actress, xiv. 377 ----, Stephen, xiv. 516 Massinger, Philip, xi. 3 Marston, John, ix. 116 Master of the game, xiv. 441 Match at Midnight, a play, xiii. 1-98 Matron, i. 72 Maw, a game, x. 539 Maw, the, a play, ix. 388 May, Richard, xi. 503 ----, Sir Thomas, xi. 503 ----, Thomas, xi. 502-84; xii. 2-83 Mayfield Place, Sussex, xi. 503 Mayne, Jasper, xiii. 200-320 Mayor of London, Lord, his inauguration sermon, xiii. 214 ---- show, xiii. 214 Mean, i. 62 Medoro, a hero of romance, xiv. 62 Meet with one, to, xiii. 62 Meg of Westminster, Long, iii. 215; xi. 111 Merchant, i. 69; ii. 255; xiii. 97, &c. Merchants' marks, xii. 100 Mercuries (early newspapers so called), xi. 513 Meriell, John, xiv. 13 Merlins or Marlins, iv. 70-1 Mermaid, the, a tavern, xiii. 263 Merry Devil of Edmonton, a play, x. 202-64 Meve, i. 244 Microcosmos, ix. 336 Middleton, T., xii. 89, 94-5 Mightly, i. 248 Milton, John, iv. 273; xiii. 193 Mirror of Knighthood, x. 322; xi. 70; xiii. 42 Miseries of Enforced Marriage, a play, ix. 466-576 Miss, i. 186 Mistress, the, at bowls, xii. 165 Mistrist, i. 203 Misusing, i. 193 Mitre tavern in Bread Street, x. 313; two taverns of this name, xiii. 48 Mole, the French, x. 10 Mons, siege of, xv. 231 Monsieur Mingo, a song, viii. 55 Montague, the Hon. Walter, xiv. 413 Moorgate Prison, xii. 127, 192-3 Mooting and Reading Days, xii. 276 More, Sir Thomas, a play, ii. 269 Morglay, xi. 70; xii. 286 Mortlake, xiii. 233 Morvidus, xii. 520 Motions, xiii. 420 Mouchatoes, xiv. 305 Mount-saint, a game, x. 186 Mow, i. 246; x. 493 Mucedorus, a play, vii. 200-60; xi. 164 Much in my nock, Nichols, prov., vi. 242 Mulmutius Dunwallo, a play, xii. 484, 495 Mumblecrust, Jack, iii. 69 Munday, Anthony, viii. 94-327 M. under your girdle, to have an, x. 531 Mundungo, xiv. 291 Muscadel, xi. 491 Music between the acts of plays, iii. 211 Musicians, itinerant, x. 347-8 Muswell, i. 341 Naked, i. 44; xiv. 334, 511 Nash, Thomas, viii. 3-92; ix. 119 Neale, Richard, Bp. of London, i. 342 Need maketh the old wife trot, prov. iii. 43 Needlework, xiii. 227 Nemesis, xiv. 188 Nessary, i. 253 Nessus, xiv. 533 Nevile, Henry, xi. 503 Newcastle, xiv. 446 New Custom, an interlude, iii. 2-52 New England, xii. 316; xiii. 228 New-found-island (or Newfoundland), i. 162; xii. 165 New guise, the, ii. 260 Newington theatre, xi. 55, 115, 434 New Queen Street, iv. 87 Next, i. 194 Nice Wanton, an interlude, ii. 160-84 Niggler, iv. 313 Nineveh, the sight of, a show, ix. 406 Nipitaty, viii. 60 Noble--"To bring a noble to ninepence," prov. iii. 344 Noel (or Nowell), Henry, vii. 50 Noise of fiddlers, xii. 281 Nonsense verses, i. 49, 50 Novem (or Novum), a game, xi. 219 Nowl, hairy, iii. 23 Nuddled, xiv. 62 Nuns, change of name by, x. 240 Oaths, viii. 304-5, 307 Odd holes, xiii. 224 Oldcastle the original name of Falstaff, xi. 152 Old Couple, the, a play, xii. 2-83 Old fish and young flesh, xiii. 432 Olived, a term of cookery, xii. 239 Olivet, Mount, i. 332 One-and-thirty, a game, ii. 34 Onions--"Who'll buy my rope of onions?" a cry, xi. 436 Orange, Prince of, xv. 231 Ordinary, the, a play, xii. 204-318 Orlando, a phrase, xiv. 62 Ostend, siege of, ix. 170 Our Lady in the Oak, i. 342 ---- of Boston, i. 337 ---- of Boulogne, iii. 199-200 Outcry, xiv. 445 Out of his danger, i. 54, 132. _Compare_ iii. 62 Out of his peril, i. 132 Overbury, Sir Thomas, xi. 328-9 Owe, i. 202 Oyster, a cant term, xiv. 463 Palermo, razors of, iv. 80; vii. 190 Palmer, i. 331 Palmerin of England, viii. 99 Pancridge (Pancras), viii. 380 Pancridge parson, xi. 33 Pantofle, iv. 67; xv. 105 Pardoner, i. 343 Paris (or Parish) Garden, viii. 124 Parismus, xii. 12 Parson's Wedding, the, a play, xiv. 370-535 Part, i. 243 Pasquil, x. 163 Passage, a game, i. 266; xi. 431 Passing measures pavin, ix. 408 Passions (love-poems), xi. 200 Pastance, i. 79; iii. 88 Patch, iii. 186-7; x. 493 Patrick's Purgatory, St, i. 337 Paul's, St, x. 341; xi. 313, 407; xiii. 264; xv. 400 Pee-dee, xiv. 289 Pembroke, William, Earl of, xiii. 326, 329 Peele, George, xii. 309 Pennycuicke, Andrew, xiii. 101 Pericles, a play, ix. 467; xi. 239, 428 Pepper in the nose, to take, xiii. 166 Perplexities, the, a play, xv. 199 Petticoat, to have on the, a phrase, ii. 252 Phantasia of Memphis, xi. 303 Pheer (or Fere), xiii. 425 Phlegm, vii. 193. Pickthatch, xi. 19, 119 Pigeon-holes, a game, xii. 101 Pight, i. 249 Pilgrim, i. 331 Pimlico, xi. 233; xiii. 243-4 Pin of the wheel, xiv. 65 Pinder (or Pinner), of Wakefield, viii. 151 Pintas, a game, xv. 265 Pinion, ii. 35 Pink, ii. 35 Piot, Lazarus, pseud., viii. 99 Pirates, execution of, xi. 188 Pirate, the, a play, xiii. 101 Pissing-while, a, iii. 224 Pitiful, i. 81 Plagues, notices of, viii. 90; x. 342; xiv. 487 Plantain-leaf, xi. 399 Platform, xiii. 336 Platonists, xiv. 441 Plautus, xi. 314 Plays, Latin, performed at Cambridge, xi. 295, 299 ----, old, corrupt texts of, xii. 192 Plutarch's Lives, North's translation of, a Shakespeare book, vii. 105 Point-device, i. 44 Poking (or poting) sticks, viii. 161 Polydorus, xiii. 512 Pomanders, ix. 419 Pompey the Great, a play, xv. 188 Pope, Alex., xii. 19, 42 Porta, Battista, xi. 301 Porter, Henry, vii. 262-383 Portous, ii. 74; iii. 24; viii. 393 Poser, ix. 139 Possems, xiv. 296 Possess (inform), ix. 483; xiii. 144 Post, a game, ii. 35 Posts, i. 75 ---- set up at the sheriffs' doors, xii. 107 Powis, William, Lord, xiii. 324 Prague, Battle of, xiii. 45 Praty, i. 71 Prayers at the end of plays, iii. 51-2, 157-8; vi. 11. Prefe, i. 179 Preston, Tho., ii. 158-248 Prest, i. 248 Prevent, xiii. 473 Primero, a game, xi. 363 Print well, i. 16 Prior, M., xii. 19; xiv. 421; xv. 204 Prisons, divisions of the old, ix. 514 Privy Seals, xiii. 267 Progresses, royal, customs at, xi. 330 Pro in my purse, to put, a phrase, iv. 60 Prologues, speakers of, xiii. 299-300 Promise is debt, prov. i. 137 Prompter (or book-holder), viii. 17, 87 Properties, theatrical, xi. 360; xiii. 274-5 Property, xiv. 78 Propriety, xiv. 364 Provand, xiv. 385 Proverbs on concealment of love, xi. 73 Prynne, W., xiii. 226 Ptolemy the geographer, xii. 226-7 Pudder, xiv. 444 Pudding--"You may draw me about the town with a pudding," ii. 78 ----, "In pudding-time," prov., iii. 319 ----, St Stephen's, xii. 235 Pudding, white, xi. 20 ----, "Everything hath an end," &c., xv. 61 Puddle Dock, xiii. 69 Puff (or Face), Captain, a character, x. 268 _Pueriles confabulatiunculæ_, a school-book, viii. 444. Pugle, i. 162 Punto, xiv. 284 Purganti, Paulo, xiv. 421 Puritans, xi. 111; xii. 248, 316; xiii. 14 Q, ix. 195; x. 298 Quadragesimal wits, xii. 268 Quarry, xiv. 379 Quatre and trey, terms at dice, xii. 122 Quaver, xiii. 15 Queen of Arragon, the, a play, xiii. 321-409 Queen's-game, the, ii. 34 Quit, i. 132 Ragman-rolls, i. 234, 241-2 Ram-Alley, a play, x. 266-380 ----, a place so called, x. 271 Randolph, T., v. 54 Rare Triumphs of Love and Fortune, a play, vi. 144-243 Ravenscroft, E., vi. 27 Rawlins, T., xiv. 1-92 Readers at Inns-of-Court, xiii. 290-1. Reason, to do one, xv. 214 Rebellion, the, a play, xiv. 1-92 Recorder, the, an instrument, viii. 31 Red Bull theatre, xi. 175 Redburn, i. 338 Reed, i. 179 Refuse me! an oath, xiii. 5 Regent, the, a ship, i. 371 Rehearsal, the, a play, v. 15, 37 Return from Parnassus, a play, viii. 8; ix. 98-217; x. 267 Revenger's Tragedy, the, a play, x. 3-105 Richards, Nath., xiv. 6 Reynard the Fox, xiii. 58 Ridley, Samuel, viii. 19 Ring Irish, vii. 497 Rings, wedding, xiv. 417 Ris, i. 252 Roaring boys, xi. 125, 135; xii. 102 Robert of Sicily, King, i. 255 Robin Goodfellow, viii. 442 _et seq._ Robin Hood, plays upon the history of, viii. 95-327 Robinson, Richard, an actor, x. 451; xiii. 102 Rock, i. 65 Rock (or Roch), St, i. 342; vi. 74 Roger de Coverley, Sir, ix. 490 Rogues, vagabonds, &c., statutes against, iii. 195 Rome--"To go to Rome with a mortar on one's head," prov., iii. 80 Rood of Dovercourt, the, viii. 399 Rosamond, Fair, ballad of, xiii. 50 Rosemary, x. 342; xiii. 81-2, 296 Rose royals, xiii. 232 Roses of Poestum, x. 186 Rowena, xi. 487 Rowley, Ralph, xii. 87-8 ----, S., xii. 87 ----, W., ix. 467; xi. 139, 178; xii. 86-202; xiii. 1-98 Rub, rub! an exclamation in bowling, xi. 54 Ruddock, iv. 72 Ruffs, long story about, xi. 192-3 Rumbelow, i. 162 Rush, Friar, iii. 213 Rushes, viii. 87; x. 213 Rutter, Joseph, xii. 362-444 Sack with sugar, ix. 516-17 Sacring-bell, x. 235 Sadness, i. 187 Saints, list of unregistered, vi. 74 Sale, i. 243 Salisbury Plain, iii. 326 Salt-cellars, xi. 403 Samers, i. 251 Sasarara, x. 76 Saunce-bell, x. 422 Saw, old, xiii. 8 Scaledrake, xiv. 290 Scathlock, viii. 151 _et seq._ Schemers, the, 1755, xiii. 209 Scholastic discipline, early, ii. 270-4 Scogin, vi. 340; viii. 16, 462 Scolds, punishment of, xii. 127 Sconce, xiii. 47 Se, i. 244 Second Maiden's Tragedy, x. 383-468 Selden, John, xiii. 254 Sellenger's round, ix. 195, 409; xiii. 492 Seller, i. 157 Seneca, the "Thyestes" of, iv. 263, 291 Servant, xiv. 407 Set a beggar on horseback, &c., prov., x. 17 Seymour, Queen Jane, i. 431 Shakespeare, W., note on his "Measure for Measure," iv. 174 ----, v. 54, 109, 139; ix. 101, 202, 393, 467; x. 158-9; xi. 246; xii. 88, 626; xiii. 89 Shaking of the sheets, a dance, x. 365; xiii. 59 Sheldon, Will., xiii. 233 Shepherds' Holiday, a play, xii. 362-444 Ship, the, a play, xi. 115 Shirley (or Sherley) Brothers, the, xi. 213 ---- James, xiv. 194 Shit, i. 183 Shoe, flinging an old, xiv. 501 Shoemaker of Bradford, the, viii. 151 Shoes, xiii. 217 Shooter's Hill, i. 185. Shope, i. 163 Shoreditch, xii. 195 Shorn at Canterbury, Master John, i. 340 Shrove-Tuesday, xi. 195-6, 436-7 Sick man's salve, the, x. 153-4 Sickness, the, xiv. 486 Sidney, Sir Philip, viii. 63; ix. 114; xiv. 194 Siesta, xv. 22 Sims's, a house of entertainment, xiv. 453 Sin, i. 76, 175 Skelton, Merry Tales of, a story-book, i. 33; viii. 39, 105, _et seq._ Skeltonical verse, viii. 110 Sleepers, the Seven, i. 362 Slot, xiv. 520 Smith, Wentworth, xi. 425 Soft fire makes sweet malt, prov., iii. 70 Soldiers, sham or swaggering, viii. 69; xi. 68 Solf, i. 71 Solyman and Perseda, a play, v. 254-374 Songs in old plays, iii. 70, 72, 189, 339, 358; xi. 146; xiv. 328-31; 346-7 Sons, literary, xi. 9 Sooner named, sooner come, prov., vi. 66 Sophy, the, a tragedy, xiv. 245 South, Robert, xiii. 203 Southwell, our Lady of, i. 341 Spain, xi. 213 Spanish Lady's Love, the, a ballad, xiii. 92 Spanish Tragedy, the, a play, v. 3-173; ix. 196; x. 370; xi. 12, 29, 248, 331, 386 Speck (or spick) and span, xi. 334; xiv. 433 Spectatrix, xiii. 513 Spere, i. 321 Sports, Book of, xii. 212, 316 Springal, xiii. 159. Spring Garden, xiv. 350 Spurs, iii. 207 ---- gilt, ix. 469 Stafford, Robert, xii. 226 Stage, construction of the, ix. 540 Staniel, xiv. 284, 357 Stanielry, xiv. 351 Starch, yellow, xi. 328-9 Statist, xiii. 421 Stench, xiv. 329 Still, John, iii. 164-256; xv. 427 Stilo novo, xiii. 478 Stirling, W. Alexander, Earl of, xi. 477 Stirrups, i. 184 Stitchel, xiv. 357 St Nicholas' clerks, xiii. 15 Stowe, John, xiii. 209 Stra, i. 255 Strabo, xii. 226 Strain'd, xiii. 9 Strange (coy), xiii. 61 Strene, i. 55 Strow, xiv. 311 Stubbes, Katherine, xii. 272 ----, Philip, xii. 272 Studs, Andalusian, xiv. 342 Stukeley, Captain, xi. 213, 215 Successive, xiv. 325 Suckling, Sir John, xii. 4; xiii. 414; xv. 4 Summer's Last Will and Testament, viii. 15-92 Summers (or Sommers), Will., viii. 15 _et seq._; xi. 535; xiv. 473 Super naculum, viii. 58 Surplices, xiii. 14 Sussex, Countess of, v. 179 Sutcliffe, Dr Matthew, xii. 277 Swearing, form of, borrowed from the Old Testament, vii. 92 Sweat, the, an epidemic, iv. 119 Swetnam, Joseph, xiv. 278 Swinnerton, Sir John, xi. 425 Tag, rag, and bobtail, xiii. 84-5 Tailor, Robert, xi. 424-599 Tailors, Italian, xi. 21 Talc, xiii. 225 Tallies, xii. 138 Tampion, i. 370 Tancred and Gismunda, vii. 27 _et seq._ Tane, i. 254 Tapestry, ancient, v. 121; xiii. 233 Tappes, my Lord, ix. 421 Tappis, xiv. 322 Tarlton, Richard, his "Jig of the Horseload of Fools," vi. 12 ----, vi. 396-8; viii. 16 Tatham, John, xiv. 12 Taverns, list of, vii. 286; xiv. 342 Tax of the Roman Chancery, xi. 565 Taylor, John, the water-poet, xi. 6 ----, Joseph, xiv. 505 Tene, i. 251 Terence, versions of, viii. 263 ---- referred to, xv. 199 Termagant, x. 322-3 Terrent, Mr, xii. 205 Tester, xii. 125 That would I see, quod blind Hew, prov., i. 232 The, _v._, i. 155 Theatres, closing of the, xv. 410-11 The devil is good when he is pleased, prov., viii. 425 Theon, ix. 205 There are more maids than Malkin, prov., viii. 266 There are more ways to the wood than one, prov., ix. 352; xv. 142 There goes the hare away, prov., v. 108; xiv. 321 Thersites, an interlude, i. 389-431; iii. 145; iv. 176 Thing of nothing, iii. 22 This seven year, i. 47 Thomas of Kent, St, i. 249 Thornton, Roger, xiv. 446 Threatened men live long, prov., vii. 495 Three Ladies of London, a play, vi. 246-370 Three Lords and Three Ladies of London, a play, vi. 372-502 Three men's songs, viii. 48 Three merry men, and three merry men, &c., x. 298 Thrist, i. 138 Thule, xii. 459 Tice, i. 116 Tide, i. 249 Tiresias, x. 283 'Tis better to be a shrew than a sheep, prov., viii. 425 Titles of old plays hung up, v. 157 Toad, the, xi. 399 Tobacco, xiii. 441 Toll-book, x. 44 Tom Essence, a play, xiv. 3 Tomkis, John, xi. 294-421 ----, Thomas, musician, xi. 295 Tom Titivile, iii. 58 To-morrow is a new day, prov., i. 86; xv. 41 Tooth-drawers, xii. 139 Top, William, xii. 205 Torture, instruments of, xi. 66, 97 Tourneur, Cyril, x. 3-105 Toy, supposed to be an actor, viii. 59 Tracy, Little, viii. 105 _et seq._ Tray-trip, a game, xiii. 238-9 Treatment, xiv. 350 Trencher-analects, xii. 269 Trenchmore, x. 316 Trentals, xiv. 170 Treygobet, ii. 34 Trinobantes, &c., xii. 516 Trial of Treasure, an interlude, iii. 258-301 Trithemius, Johannes, xii. 218-19 Triump (or Trump), ii. 34; iii. 199 Trott, Nicholas, iv. 251 _et seq._ Trouchman, xiii. 344 Trow, i. 62 Trump, iii. 199 Trumpets sounded at theatres and shows, xiii. 250 Trumpington, ii. 30 Trundletail, xii. 121 Trunnion, St, i. 334 Tuck, Friar, viii. 105 _et seq._ Tuke, Sir Samuel, xv. 4, 184 Turbervile, George, iv. 9 Turnbull (or Turnmill) Street, xi. 98 Turner, Mrs, xi. 328-9 Twelfth-Day, xii. 132 Twin, i. 244 Udall, Nicholas, ii. 274; iii. 54-161 Uncumber, St, i. 334 Undeserved, i. 71 Unfortunate Jack, History of, xii. 329 Unhappily, xiv. 243 Unicorn, i. 81 Unready, xiii. 79 Upse, xiv. 471 Up-se-frieze, viii. 58 Usurers, practices of, viii. 26 Utopian trunks, xiii. 86 Vanbrugh, Sir J., xii. 20 Venue (or Veney), xiii. 169-70 Verse, blank, vi. 20 Vice, the, ii. 307; iv. 160; vii. 386 Villiers, Colonel George, xii. 19 Vine-dee, xiii. 272 Vinegar used to represent blood, iv. 217; ix. 106 Virginia, xi. 187 Vortigern, xi. 487 Vox Piscis, or the Book-Fish, 1627, xii. 90 Wage, to take, i. 247 Waggons and other carriages impressed, xi. 330 Wait, i. 248 Waking Man's Fortune, a story, iv. 8 Walsingham, our Lady of, i. 335 Waltham, cross at, i. 335 Wanion, xiii. 158-9 Wapping, xi. 188 Warning for Fair Women, a play, v. 123 Wase, Chr., xv. 199 Wassail, xi. 487; xii. 285 Watch and ward, v. 75 Watching-candle, xi. 352 Watling Street, iv. 243; xi. 207 Watson, Thomas, v. 36-7; ix. 114 Wat Tyler, v. 376 _et seq._ Wax, to bite the, xii. 256 Weakest goeth to the wall, prov., x. 124 Wealth, i. 73 Webbe, W., vii. 7, 13 Webster, John, xii. 89 Wed, i. 165 Weeping-Cross, vii. 337 Wenefrid (or Winifred), St, i. 337 Went, i. 119 Werewolf, the, ix. 351 Wever, R., ii. 42-102 Whales in maps, xiii. 267 Wheels laid for pike, xiii. 267 Whe'r for whether, xiii. 47 Whetstone, to throw the, a phrase, viii. 28 Whiffler, xiii. 244 White, to hit the, xiii. 177-8; xiv. 144 Whitecross Street, xv. 406 Whittington and his cat, xiv. 446 Who can sing so merry a note, &c., a ballad, viii. 28 Widow's phrase, the, x. 306; xi. 142 Wild, i. 245 Wildness, i. 149 Wilkins, George (the elder), ix. 466-576 Willesden, i. 341 Willowby, Lady (the rod), ix. 27 Wilmot, Robert, vii. 3 _et seq._ Wilson, Robert, vi. 246-502 Wilson's "Art of Rhetoric," passage from "Ralph Roister Doister," cited in, iii. 112 Wily Beguiled, a play, ix 220-330 Wind--"Let the world wind," i. 20 Wine at marriages, xiii. 82 Wines, xi. 194; xiii. 82, 93, 216, 441, 500 Wisdom, Robert, xii. 271 Wished, xiii. 65 Wisp, xii. 127 Witch, the term applied to both sexes, xiii 259 Witched, xiii. 453 Witches, viii. 65 With a wet finger, prov., vi. 180 Wits, the Five, i. 130 Wizard, xiv. 358 Wizzel, xiii. 271 Woman, a, is a Weathercock, a play, xi. 2-86 Woman Never Vexed, a play, xii. 86-202 Women, note on the occupations, &c., of, _temp_ Eliz. ix. 538 Women are forgetful, &c., prov., xii. 200 Wondersly, i. 16 Wood, i. 351 Woodes, Nath. vi. 4-9, 30 _et seq._ Woodman, Richard, iii. 35 Wood Street counter, xii. 179 Woollen manufacture, xiii. 295 World and the Child, the, an interlude, i. 241-75 World, it is a, a phrase, i. 35 Worthies, the Nine, xi. 447 Wrapped in his mother's smock, xiii. 74 Wreaths, oaken, xiii. 459 Wright, Abraham, xv. 400 ----, James, xv. 400-431 Wrought, i. 249 Yellow, to wear the, vii. 474 Yeomen of the collar, i. 157 Ying, i. 245 Young, Edward, xiii. 178 Youth, Interlude of, ii. 5-40 GLOSSARIAL INDEX. GLOSSARIAL INDEX, BY RICHARD MORRIS, LL.D. A, _in_, i. 49; xv. 217; viii, 313; _of_, viii. 369; _he_, iii. 241; vi. 183 Abashed, _downcast_, i. 88 Abide, _to remain_, xi. 456; _to endure_, i. 308 Abide, } Abi, Aby, } _to atone for_, xi. 38; i. 406; iii. 95 Abiden, _endured_, ix. 425 Abject, _an abject creature_, vi. 95 Aboarding, _coming to the coast_(?), v. 265 About, _round_, i. 19 Aboven, _above_, xv. 422 Abroach, _on broach_, xiii. 93 Abusion, _abuse_, ii. 89 Accointance, _acquaintance_, i. 79 Accompt, _account_, xv. 119 Accomptant, _accountant_, xiv. 325 Accord, _to agree_, i. 229 Accumber, _to destroy_, i. 299 Accumbred, _troubled_, iii. 133 Acold, _cold_, iii. 189 Acquaince, _acquaintance_, i. 105 Acquittance, _quittance_, i. 127 Acrook, _crookedly_, iii. 125 Adamant, _a magnet, loadstone_, v. 300 Adauntrely (= avauntlay), _a hunting term_, ix. 149 A doors, "forth a doors" = _out of doors_, x. 561 Adrabbing, _a-wenching_, vii. 348 Adreamed, _dreamed_, x. 241; xiii. 169 Adry, _dry_, vi. 568 Advenient, _coming, future_, vii. 158 Advertise, _to warn_, xv. 23 Advertisement, _counsel_, i. 293 Advisement, _advice_, i. 106; vii. 109; _consideration_, i. 292 Advoutress, _adultress_, iii. 151 Advoutry, _adultery_, xii. 301 Af, _of_, vi. 73 Afeard, _afraid_, i. 110 Affect, _to love_, xi. 141, 453; xiv. 303 Affected, _well disposed_, xi. 454, 518 Affiance, _trust_, i. 107 Affine, _lastly_, iii. 246; _lastly_, i. 266 Affright, _frightened_, v. 213 Affront, _to face, to meet face to face_, v. 211; xi. 265; xii. 469 Agate, _agoing, on the road_, ii. 25, 306; ix. 400 Aggress, _to approach_, iv. 172 Aggrievance, _grievance_, xiv. 309 Aggrieves, _grievances_, xiv. 309 Aglet, _point of a tag_, v. 113 Ago, _gone by_, i. 107, 167, 168 Agone, _ago_, i. 28 Agood, _goodly_, iii. 116 Agooding, _agadding_(?), iii. 317 Ahungry, _hungry_, vi. 296 Akenning, _being discerned_, v. 354 A las pintas, _note_, xv. 265 Alate, _late, lately_, ii. 114; ix. 164; x. 444. Alchochoden, _an astronomical term_, xi. 345 Alder of all, i. 135 Ale, _to heel_, i. 161, 185 Alestake, _sign of an alehouse_, i. 191 Alfridaria, _a term used in astronomy_, xi. 344 Algate, } Algates, } _always_, i. 237; xii. 288 Alimonial, _pertaining to alimony_, xiv. 314 Almicantarath, _astronomical term_, _note_, xi. 326 Almight, _Almighty_, i. 147 Alms, _a charity_, i. 72; ii. 285 Almuten, _astronomical term_, _note_, xi. 345 Alonely, _only_, i. 67 Along on, _on account of_, ix. 101 Alouten, _utterly_, xii. 241 Aloyse, iv. 79 Altogether (for), _once for all_, iii. 135 Alum-plumb, i. 178 Aly, _holy_ (?), _but see note_, iii. 66 Amain, _fast_, vii. 281 Amate, _to daunt, confound_, vii. 79, 137 Amaze, _amazement_, x. 133 Ambassadress, xv. 208 Ambassage, _embassy_, vi. 463 Ambages, _ambiguous, equivocal sayings_, v. 30; ix. 265 Ambergrease, xi. 341; xiii. 490 Ambitiousness, _ambition_, xv. 161 Ambrosiac, xiv. 316 Ambry, _pantry_, vi. 412. Amebly, _trotting_(?), xii. 284 Amend, _to mend_, iii. 176 Ames ace, _note_, xii. 243; xiii. 118 Ameved, _moved_, iii. 240 Amiss, _fault_, vi. 525 Among, _now and then, at intervals_, i. 71 Amorist, _a lover_, xiii. 376 Amort, _melancholy_, viii. 198; ix. 305; x. 310 Amuse, _musing_, x. 175 An, and, _if_, i. 142; xii. 259; xiii. 80; xv. 128; _on_, ii. 193 Ancient, _ensign_, viii. 174; xiii. 58 Anent, _along_, iv. 313 Angerly, _angrily_, iv. 136 Annoy, _annoyance_, iv. 317; xv. 120 Antiphon, _alternate singing_, xii. 503 Apace, _quickly_, i. 88 Apaid, _pleased_, i. 175; iii. 18 Apluck, _in pluck_, _lustily_, i. 146; ii. 368 Apoplex, _apoplexy_, x. 182 Appair, _to impair_, i. 100 Appealed, _accused_, i. 70 Appetite, _desire_, ii. 47 Apply, _to apply one's self_, ii. 284 Appointed, _accoutred_, _equipped_, i. 376; xii. 213 Apprehensive, _perceptive_, xii. 505 Approbate, _approved_, i. 7 Approve, _to prove_, x. 117 Arayed, { Arrayed, { _defiled_, _soiled_, _disfigured_, i. 78, 178; iii. 175; _disconcerted_, ii. 119 Areadiness, _readiness_, iv. 234 Arear, _back_, i. 166 Argosies, _merchant ships_, xii. 100 Armipotent, _powerful in arms_, iii. 282 Aroom, _abroad_, i. 154 A-row, _in succession_, xv. 91 Arre, _to snarl_, viii. 44 Arride, _to please_, xiii. 445 Arsyversy, xii. 137 Articulated, _put down as articles of a treaty_, v. 67 Ascendant, _note_, xi. 309 Ashen, _ashes_, xii. 240 Asinigo, _a fool_, xiii. 519 Aslake, _to assuage_, i. 400 Aspect (of planets), vii. 185 Aspy, _to spy_, i. 156 Assail, _to essay_, ii. 241 Assay, _to essay, try_, i. 19; ii. 389 Assoil, _to remove doubts, explain_, i. 70, 75, 179; vii. 169; xv. 253 Assurance, security, xii. 153 Assure, _to make sure of_, x. 139 Astonied, _thunderstruck_, vii. 80; ix. 570 At, _with_, x. 123 At odds, _at variance_, ix. 457 At one (with), _to reconcile to_, iii. 139 Atrust, _on trust_, x. 308 Attach, _to seize_, vii. 24, xii. 503 Attournment, x. 218 Aunt, _a bawd_, xiii. 70; xiv. 448 Autocousticon, _note_, xi. 314 Ayenst, _against_, i. 149 Azimuth, _note_, xi. 326 Bab, _babe_, vi. 73 Babble, _to talk like a child, to prate_, i. 8 Babbling, _chattering_, i. 19 Baberlipped, _thick-lipped_, ix. 404 Bable, _bauble_, vii. 359 Backside, _backyard_, x. 341; xi. 233; _a house in the rear of another_, x. 341 Backster, _a female baker_, i. 424 Baconpig, v. 104 Bade, _an abode_, iv. 307 Badst, _invitedst_, viii. 290 Baffle, xii. 174; xiv. 305 Balance, (_pair of_) _scales_, viii. 408 Bale (of dice), _pair_, xi. 221; xii. 121 Balk, _beam of a house_, iii. 173 Balladising, _ballad-making_, viii. 258 Ban, _to curse_, iii. 181 Band, _bound_, ix. 569; _bond_, iii. 361 Banding, _bandied_, vii. 116 Bandoliers, xii. 229 Bandy, _game at tennis_, ix. 381 Bane, _death_, v. 262 Banket, _a banquet_, i. 44; ii. 82 Bankrout, _bankrupt_, x. 361 Bannerets, v. 213 Bannings, _curses_, viii. 315 Bare, _did bear_, i. 165 Barm, _yeast_, xii. 269 Barmuthes, _Bermudas_, xi. 137 Barmy, _yeasty_, ix. 110 Barnacles, _spectacles_, iv. 81 Barren (of), _devoid_ of, vii. 288 Barricado, _to barricade_, x. 260 Barrow gutlings, _a pig's guts_, x. 347 Base (at), _game of base_, viii. 400 Baseful, _low_, ix. 176 Bashaw, _pashaw_, v. 150 Basilisk, _a piece of ordnance_, x. 325 Bass, _to kiss_, i. 74, 181 Baste, _to beat_, xiv. 305 Bat, { _to abate, decline in courage_, x. 33; Bate, { _to flutter_, xi. 353 Bate, _to debate_, xii. 524 Batteries, xiii. 218, _note_ Battoon, _a staff_, xii. 238 Bawson, _badger_, ix. 452 Bayard, _a bay horse_; "blind as bayard," iv. 118 Bay, _by_, vi. 71 Be, _been_, i. 413 Bead, _prayer_, x. 234; viii. 393 Bead-folk, _pensioners_, i. 85 Bead-roll, _a list of persons to be prayed for_, v. 197 Bear in hand, x. 303 Beastly, _like a beast_, i. 30 Bebang, _to bang_, vii. 309 Beck, _a beckoning (with the hand)_, xi. 262, 307; _a nod_, viii. 88; _salutation_, i. 373 Bedlam, _a madman_, iii. 245; _mad_, ii. 131 Bedstaff, xi. 337; xiii, 35 Bedward, _bed-time_, xi. 333 Beetle-browed, _having overhanging brows_, ix. 404 Beforne, _before_, i. 273 Behete, _to promise_, i. 258 Behyht, _promised_, i. 248 Being, _existence_, _state_, _welfare_, xi. 454, 464 Being that, _since_, x. 262 Beknave, i. 430 Beldam, _old_, xi. 247 Belike, _perhaps_, xi. 245 Belith, _belongs_, i. 258 Belive, _quickly_, viii. 158; xii. 507 Bemonster, _to make a monster of_, x. 157 Benedicite, i. 54 Benison, _blessing_, ii. 230 Bent, _biassed_, x. 118 Benters, _coal-sacks_, iv. 77 Beray, _to dirt, mess_, iii. 197, 329 Berew, _by row_, _a-row_, i. 246 Beseem, _to suit_, xii. 505 Beshrew, _to curse_, i. 20 Beside herself, _out of her wits_, i. 66 Beslaver, _to slobber over_, ix. 121 Besnow, _cover with snow_, xii. 457 Bestial, _animal_, i. 12 Bet, _beaten_, iii. 237; _do better_, ii. 127; _better_, xii. 257 Betruss'd, _hanged_, viii. 199 Bever, _luncheon_, ix. 366 Bevy, i. 20; _a bevy_, vii. 322 Bewray, _to betray_, ii. 241; xi. 239 Beyond, _over_, i. 152 Bias, _term in game of bowls_, vii. 283 Bib, _to drink_, x. 335 Bickering, _fighting_, iii. 217 Bid, _did abide_, vii. 296 Bidden, _refrained_, ii. 218 Bidding prayer, viii. 393 Bide, _to endure_, iv. 185; _to suffer_, vi. 588; _to abide_, _stay_, i. 137 Bidene, _forthwith_, _together_, i. 268 Biggon, _see note_, xiii. 288 Bilbo, _sword_, xiii. 35 Bill, _a petition_, viii. 378 Birdbolt, _an arrow_, xi. 200 Birdsnie, _term of endearment_, xiii. 124 Bis, _fine silk_, i. 252 Bitched (ale), i. 254 Bitter, _a bittern_, i. 424 Bi wi ye, (_good_) _bye_, vii. 312 Blackguard, iii. 323 Blackjack, viii. 57; ix. 471; xi. 470 Blank, _white of a target_, ii. 35 Blather, _a bladder_, vi. 114 Ble, _complexion_, i. 251 Blea, _to bleat like a kid_, ii. 237, 239 Blest, iii. 243 Blin, _to cease_, i. 248, 424; viii. 320 Blive, _quick_, xii. 311; _to be quick_, xii. 507 Bloat, _a bloater_ (_herring_), xiii. 5 Blot, _a term used in card-playing_, vii. 276 Blot, _to defile_ iii. 202; _defame_, iv. 143 Bluebottle, _a liveried servant_, ix. 471 Bluster, _to blow_, xii. 219 Bob, _a blow_, iv. 81; vii. 168; _to strike_, iv. 121; vii. 456, 490; _taunt_, iv. 81; vii. 309; _to send away empty_, xi. 435. Bob (for eels), xii. 166 Bobb'd, _beaten, baffled_, x. 358; _tricked_, xiii. 129 Bode, _to portend_, viii. 47 Bodkin, _a dagger_, vii. 335 Body politic, xii. 230 Bold, _to encourage_, i. 182 Boll, _bowl_, i. 179 Bombard, _a drinking-vessel_, xi. 24; _a piece of ordnance_, i. 370 Bomfay, _by my faith_, iii. 272 Bonable, _abominable_, iii. 212 Bona robas, _note_, ix. 530 Bone, "a bone in your hood," ii. 169, 170 Bonerly, bonnerly, _debonairly_, _mannerly_, i. 243, 250 Bones, _dice_, xiii. 124; "make no bones," _make no delay_, i. 398 Bongrace, } Boongrace, } _a bonnet_, _hood_, i. 203; vi. 466 Boon, _good_, ix. 147 Boon sparks, _fine fellows_, xii. 270 Boot, _remedy_, _medicine_, i. 84 Boots, _avails_, xi. 81 Bord, _jest_, _game_, iii. 78 Borrels, _peasants_, xii. 567 Borrow, _to preserve, save, secure_, i. 269; ii. 120 Botkin, _a dagger_, ii. 301 Bots, _worms_, ii. 300; x. 491; _venereal disease_, vi. 257 Bottle, _a bundle_, xi. 22; vi. 176; vii. 208; "bite bread out of a bottle," i. 411 Bottom, _a vale_, i. 371; x. 247; _foundation_, i. 17 Bonget, _cask, bucket_, iv. 72 Bought, _redeemed_, i. 141 Bounce, _to beat_, iii. 218; _bang_, ix. 263 Bound, _boon_, iv. 143 Bounty, _goodness_, i. 248 Bountyhood, _bounty_, viii. 36 Bow, _to bend_, i. 77 Bowr, "ball and bowr," i. 247 Bowyer, _a maker of bows_, viii. 152; xiii. 60 Box, _note_, xii. 121 Boying, _playing the boy_, ii. 211 Brachs, _shelves_, _shoals_, i. 185 Brachygraphy, _shorthand_, viii. 41 Brag, _fine_, ii. 108, 336; iii. 209; vi. 394 Brainpan, _skull_, vii. 309 Brangled, _encumbered_, x. 228 Brast, _burst_, i. 148, 252 Brave, _fine_, _well dressed_, iii. 28; iv. 81; x. 125 Bravely, _finely_, xiii. 129 Bravery, _finery_, ix. 17; x. 125 Brawl (=broll), _brat_, _child_, iii. 201 Brawn, _muscle_, ii. 209 Brawnfallen, _chapfallen_, v. 207 Bray'd, _pounded_, xi. 333 Break up, _to open_, vii. 132 Breast, _breath_, _voice_, i. 353; iii. 61 Breech, _to flog, whip_, viii. 21; x. 282; xi. 148 Bren, _to burn_, i. 12, 54, 58, 211 Breviates, _briefs_, x. 166 Brewis, _broth_, vii. 218; x. 478 Brigand (harness), i. 251 Briggen (irons), i. 402 Brims, _top of a hill_, i. 371; _fierce_, iii. 138 Brocket, _a hart of two years_, ix. 148 Broderd, _embroidered_, iv. 243 Broideries, _embroideries_, x. 199 Brokage, xiv. 314 Broke (=broken), _spoken with_, iv. 483 Broken beer, xii. 228 Broken-bellied, _ruptured_, xii. 215 Brook, _to endure_, xi. 456 Broom, _rushes, twigs of broom_, i. 65 Brothel, _a wicked woman_, _whore_, _a wretch_, i. 82, 255 Brunt, _burnt_, vi. 76 Brusten, _burst_, iii. 197 Budge, _to stir_, ix. 525 Buffling, _foolish_, x. 370 Bug, _a goblin_, iv. 72; v. 172 Bugle-gown, x. 347 Bugle-horn, viii. 47 Buke, _a book_, vi. 73 Bulchin, _a bull calf_, viii. 369 Bulk, _body_, iv. 357; xi. 356 Bullbeggar, _a bogy_, _goblin_, xii. 122 Bully, _a term of endearment_, x. 260; _fellow_, ix. 494, 515; _friend_, xii. 120 Bum, _by my_, iv. 62; viii. 364; (?) _to brand_, vii. 466; (?) _bumping_, iv. 122 Bumbard, _a cannon_, xi. 263 Bumbast, _to fill out_, xii. 181 Bumbasting, _stuffing out_, x. 357 Bumfay, } Bumvay, } _by my faith_, ii. 375; iv. 219 Bumming, _drinking_, xiii. 8 Bunny, _a term of endearment_, ix. 252 Bur, _by our_, viii. 338 Burbolt(= bird-bolt), _an arrow_, iii. 101. Burden (of a song), i. 49 Burgh, _a town_, i. 338 Bursemen, xii. 120 Bursting, _breaking_, iii. 180 Burtherous, _burdensome_, vi. 108 Busk, _fine, trim_, x. 235; _a bush_, iii. 81; _part of a dress_, ix. 17, _note_; ix. 368; xiii. 334 Buskle, _to buckle_, v. 242 Buss, _to kiss_, iv. 233; ix. 244; xii. 308; _voice_ (?), iv. 81 But, _without_, x. 187 Buzzes, _gossamers_, xi. 37 Buzzing, _spreading about rumours_, iv. 366 B' w' y', _be with you_, vi. 532; _God be with you_, _good-bye_, xii. 297 By (=aby), _atone for_, _pay for_, iii. 139 Bye and main, _on all sides_, xiv. 427 By kind, _naturally_, vii. 294 By-word, _a proverb_, vi. 47 Caitiff, _vile_, xii. 10 Calf, _a fool_, ii. 288, 305 Caliver, xiii. 345 Callet, _a drab_, iii. 209, 215, 217; xiii. 499; x. 501; _craven_, iii. 219 Calverd (salmon), xiv. 450 Camerade, _comrade_, xv. 213, 215 Camp, _to wrangle_, _nag_, ix. 251. Can, _knows_, i. 7; _to acknowledge_, i. 147, 364 Can (thanks) _to acknowledge_, iii. 66 Can of Catowe, _Khan of Cathay_, i. 32 Canicular, xiv. 336 Cannibal, _the venereal disease_, xi. 247. Canst, _knowest_, i. 261; v. 129 Cant, _to sing_, xiv. 356 Capric (wine), i. 24 Caracts, _ships_, xiv. 325 Carantoman, xiv. 300 Caraways, _caraway comfits_, ii. 300 Carbonadoe, vii. 505 Carcanet, _necklace_, _bracelet_, v. 261 Card (to cool), _note_, xiii. 505 Care, _sorrow_, i. 120, 250 Carefully, _sorrowfully_, ii. 318 Cargo, _courage_, ix. 533 Cargohai, _note_, xi. 421 Cark, _care_, i. 225 Carl, _a churl_, viii. 50; ix. 215 Carlishness, _churlishness_, xii. 311 Carouch, } Caroch, } _a coach_, x. 336; xi. 202 Carping, _talking_, i. 267 Carriage, _behaviour_, xi. 117 Carriages, _deeds_, xiv. 202 Carta blanca, _a fool_, xv. 72 Cartel, xv. 92 Cartiff, _wretch_, i. 29, 106 Case, "if case," _if it be_, iv. 123 Casques, _helmets_, v. 243 Cassock, _a riding-coat_, ix. 372 Cassy, _Cassia_, i. 366 Cast, _sleight_, ii. 113; _to vomit_, vii. 303; _to contrive_, x. 312; _suppose_, iii. 68, 90; _cast off_, x. 341 Casten, _cast_, xiv. 290 Casting, _spitting_, _expectoration_, xi. 43 Casting-bottle, _note_, xi. 339. Cataclysm, _deluge_, xii. 468 Cat-a-mountain, _a panther_, xi. 67 Catch, _a song_, xv. 119 Catchpole, _thief-catcher_, i. 156; _a policeman_, x. 330 Catchpole-bribed = _bribed to be a catchpole_, viii. 118 Cater, _caterer_, xii. 122 Cates, _dainties_, xi. 486; xii. 25 Cat in the pan, iv. 41 Caul, xv. 90, _note_ Cautelous, _cautious_, xi. 15 Cautelously, _cautiously_, xv. 280 Cautility, _deceit_, iii. 284 Caveary, xii. 236 Caviare, ix. 366 Cazimi, _the sun's centre_, xi. 344 Cees, _note_, iv. 367 Censing, _incensing_, iii. 11 Censings, _incensings_, ii. 66 Ceremonious, _religious_, xi. 449 Certain, _for certain_, _certainly_, i. 32, 129 Certify, _to assure_, xiii. 81 Cha, _I have_, iii. 179 Chad, _I had_, iii. 75; viii. 362 Chafe, _a chafing, anger_, iv. 382; viii. 412 Chafen, _to chafe_, iii. 39 Chalk, "sin in chalk," xiii. 287 Chall, _I will_, iii. 182 Challenge, _to claim_, xi. 34 Cham, _I am_, iii. 175; viii. 338 Champion, _a level field_, vii. 282 Champion-haxter, xiv. 322 Channot, _I cannot_, iii. 195 Chap, _jaw_, iv. 353; vi. 389 Chapfallen gums, x. 339 Chapman, _a dealer_, _merchant_, xi. 183; xii. 158; xiv. 427 Char, _business_, _job_, _turn of work_, ii. 375 Char'd, _done_, iii. 375 Chargeable, _expensive_, xii. 101 Charger, _a dish_, xi. 339 Charity, St., i. 112 Charmer, _enchanter_, xii. 505 Chat, _jaw_, _jangling_, iii. 243 Chave, _I have_, iii. 178 Chawbon, _jawbone_, i. 424 Che, _I_, viii. 388 Cheap, _bargain_, i. 184 Cheapen, _to buy_, xi. 183, 190 Cheaping, _market_, i. 260 Cheard, _I heard_, iii. 205 Cheatee, _one cheated_, xi. 404 Check, _to cheek, abuse_, ii. 315, 347 Checks, _reproofs_, vii. 156 Cheerly, _cheerfully_, xi. 72 Cherry-pit, i. 246 Chests, _chess_, ix. 387 Chieve, _to achieve_, iii. 74 Chill, _I will_, iii. 184; iv. 219 Chirurgeon, _surgeon_, xi. 363 Chitterlings, iii. 310 Chittyface, _having face like a chit_, viii. 188. Choose, _to help_, xi. 251 Chop logic, x. 126. Chope, _I hope_, iii. 205 Chopines, _high shoes_, x. 367 Choploge, _chop logic_, iii. 101 Chops, _jaws_, xi. 67 Chrisom clethes, _chrisom clothes_, vi. 72 Christcross row, _alphabet_, vii. 324 Christen'd, _baptized_, i. 148 Chrysome, _note_, xiii. 280 Chuck (= chick), _a term of endearment_, ix. 499; xii. 214 Chud, _I would_, viii. 347 Chuff, _a churl_, viii. 367 Churchman, _a parson_, xii. 110 Chwas, _I was_, iii. 75; iv. 73 Chwere, _I were_, iii. 179 Chwine, _I ween_, iii. 75 Chwould, _I would_, iii. 177 Cinque, _term in dancing_, ii. 91 Cinque-pace, _name of a dance_, xi. 478 Clang, _withered_, i. 269 Clap dish, } Clapperjaw, } _a chatterer_, viii. 446; xi. 274 Clap hands, xi. 42 Cary (wine), i. 24 Clave, _did cleave_, i. 147 Claw, _to scratch_, x. 122 Clean, _quite_, _altogether_, i. 25, 213 Clear, _quit_, v. 379; _clearness_, vii. 118 Clenchpoop, _a fool_, vi. 256 Clepe, _to call_, i. 245 Cleped, _called_, i. 200; viii. 347, 394 Clept, _called_, vi. 515 Clerk, _a scholar_, i. 6, 7; iii. 190; _a parson_, xii. 112 Clerkish, _learned_, ii. 9 Clerks (St Nicholas'), _thieves_, xiii. 15 Cling, _to embrace_, xvi. 22; (?), x. 22. Clip, _to embrace_, ii. 180; ix. 254; x. 173; xiii. 182 Clock, _to cluck_, ix. 480 Cloister, _to imprison_, xiv. 190 Close, _secret_, viii. 64; xi. 61 Closely, _secretly_, viii. 62; xi. 306 Closeness, _secrecy_, xiv. 213 Clotter'd, _clotted_, vii. 82 Cloudy, _gloomy_, xi. 485 Clout, _to patch_, i. 183; _a patch_, iii. 181; _centre of a target_, xi. 249; _used contemptuously of clothes_, xv. 114 Clouted, _clothed_, xi. 197 Clownical, _clownish_, xi. 237 Clubbish, _blockish_, ii. 192 Clutchfist, _a miser_, xii. 238 Clyppen, _to call_, xii. 241 Coals (to carry), _to bear injury_, viii. 417 Coat, _escutcheon_, viii. 296 Cobblestones, _pebblestones_, iii. 210 Cock, _God_, iii. 71 Cock and pie (by), _an oath_, v. 274 Cock's, _God's_, i. 155 Cockatrice, xiii. 500, _note_ Cocker'd, _pampered_, xi. 254 Cockerill, _a little cock_, _a term of contempt_, iv. 68 Cockering, _indulgence_, iii. 8 Cocking, _cock-fighting_, xi. 364 Cockle, vi. 46 Cockney, i. 403; _a pet_, viii. 360 Cocksure, x. 309 Cod's, _God's_, iv. 221 Coddled, xv. 216 Cog, _to cheat_, vi. 257; viii. 416; x. 497; _to flatter, deceive_, viii. 157; _falsity_, viii. 134 Cogfoist, _a cheat_, ix. 239 Cogging, _cheating_, ix. 238 Coggled, _swallowed_ (?), ii. 215 Coifs, xi. 181 Coil, _cuff_, iii. 130; _noise_, iii. 124; x. 123 Coil'd, _torn_, iv. 232 Coistrell, viii. 339 Coll, _name of a dog_, iii. 8 Collar, "yeoman of the collar," _prisoners' chains_, i. 157 Collaud, _to praise_, xi. 235 Collet, _part of a ring in which a stone is set_, x. 18 Colloge, _to talk_, xi. 256 Collop, _a slice_, v. 334 Colphise, _to beat_, _buffet_, iv. 60 Come off, _to pay dearly for_, ix. 185 Comen, _come_, i. 202 Commandment, _committal_, vi. 488 Commendadore, xiii. 521 Commerce, _intercourse_, xiv. 198 Commix, _to mix_, i. 11, 12 Commodious (to), _according (to)_, ii. 271; _fit, proper_, ii. 318 Commodity, _interest_, iii. 52 Common, _to commune_, vi. 33 Commutative, _exchangeable_, xv. 240 Compact, _compacted_, viii. 76 Companion, _equal, fellow_, vi. 179; x. 119 Compare, _comparison_, vii. 72; x. 119 Comparisons are odious, xiv. 147 Compass, _to achieve_, _comprehend_, xi. 435, 553; xv. 12 Compeer, _equal_, ii. 13 Complement, _requisite_, ix. 367 Complet, _crown_, vii. 241 Complexion, _nature_, i. 287; xv. 281 Complice, _an accomplice_, xiv. 305 Complot, _a plot_, x. 519 Comport, _to bear_, _behave_, xv. 25 Comportment, _behaviour_, xv. 89 Composition, _terms_, _agreement_, x. 208; xv. 226 Compound, _compounded_, i. 12 Con, _to acknowledge_, iii. 198; ix. 257 Conceit, _thought_, _imagination_, i. 7, 10; v. 409; x. 178 Conceive, _to understand_, xi. 562; _think, conceive_, viii. 82; xii. 101 Concent, _adherent_, iv. 147 Concerner, xiii. 210 Concernment, _concern_, xv. 10, 40, 45; _importance_, xiv. 217 Concertation, _a meeting_, i. 409 Concordance, _agreement_, xiii. 119 Concurrents, xv. 29 Conditions, _terms_, xv. 52 Conduct, _a guide_, xiv. 337 Conduyter, _conductor_, i. 126 Coney, _a rabbit_, _a term of endearment_, ii. 286; iii. 150 Coney-catching, xii. 125 Coneygreen, _a rabbit-burrow_, vii. 336 Congies, _good-byes_, x. 121 Congruence, i. 285 Conjoin, _to unite_, xii. 114. Conjuration, _adjuration_, xiv. 240 Connant, _covenant_, i. 265 Conserve, _to preserve_, vii. 56. Conserver, _preserver_, xiv. 135 Consiliadory, xiii. 108 Consort, _concert_, xii. 355 Content, _contentment_, xi. 452, 459 Contentation, _contentment_, iii. 290; xi. 526 Continent, _chaste_, x. 141 Contrivement, _contrivance_, xii. 214 Controlment, _control_, vii. 69 Controversy, _litigation_, xi. 467 Conveniency, _convenience_, xiv. 395, 506 Convenient, _fit_, ii. 302 Conversation, _life_, iii. 270 Converse, _conversation_, xi. 484 Convey, _to put_, _place_, xi. 484; _steal_, i. 159 Conveyance, _theft_, iii. 135, 136 Convince, _to conquer_, iii. 267; iv. 174 Convinced, _convicted_, vi. 94 Cope, _to exchange_ vi. 331 Copesmate, _companion_, vi. 395; vii. 449; xiii. 30 Corner-cap, iii. 11 Cornute, _a cuckold_, x. 173 Corporal, _corporeal_, i. 12 Corregidor, xv. 203 Correspondent (to), _according_ (_to_), iv. 12. Corrigidor, v. 125 Corrival, _a rival_, xi. 100 Corse, _body_, iv. 341; _corpse_, i. 408 Corsive, _corrosive_, ix. 558 Coscinomancy, xi. 338 Cosenage, _cheating_, x. 276; xi. 80, 547 Cosener, _a cheat_, xi. 582 Cosmography, _geography_, i. 7, 10, 27 Cost, "do cost," i. 156; "not worth a cost" (_cost_ = _coss_ = _curs_), _not worth a cress_, i. 259 Costard, _apple_, ii. 119; _pate_, _head_, i. 168: iii. 121; vii. 167; x. 552; xiv. 164 Costermonger, _an applemonger_, xii. 340; xiii. 125 Costomable, _usual_, i. 312 Costreling, iii. 82 Cot, _cottage_, i. 30 Coted, ix. 149 Cothurnal, xiv. 183 Cotswold lion, _sheep_, iii. 137 Cotton, _to agree_, iv. 215; _succeed_, xi. 204 Couch, _to crouch in fear_, i. 84; _to collocate_, xi. 303 Couch-quarl, _a game_, i. 396 Counsel, _secresy_, iii. 199 Count, _a reckoning_, i. 103 Countenance, _pretence_, i. 65 Counter, _a term in hunting_, ix. 454. Counter-check, _to oppose_, v. 45, 329; xiv. 115 Counter-checking, _reproving_, vii. 203 Counterfeit, _likeness_, iv. 376; vi. 565; vii. 466; xi. 562; _to imitate_, xiii. 127 Counterly, iv. 233 Counter-match, xi. 320 Counter-mine, xiv. 167 Counter-puff, _a return blow_, v. 243 Counter-scarp, ix. 362 Counter-vail, _to make up for_, _balance_, vi. 96; viii. 30; xii. 8, 41 Counterview, vi. 464 Counting-book, i. 105 County, _count_, vii. 23 Courage, _devotion_, i. 27 Court-martialist, xiii. 158 Coutelace, _cutlass_, v. 240 Covent, _convent_, i. 252; viii. 240 Coverture, _covering_; viii. 77; x. 178 Covet, _to desire_, i. 257 Covetise, _covetousness_, i. 100, 206; v. 184; viii. 77 Covin, _deceit_, xii. 284 Cowardish, _cowardly_, i. 401 Cowr, _to bend_, _crouch_, iii. 177 Cox, _a coxcomb_, iii. 250 Coy, _to act coy_, v. 47 Crack'd, _bankrupt_, xii. 167 Crackrope, _a term of contempt_, iv. 63 Crake, _boast_, i. 410, 430; ii. 385 Craker, _a boaster_, iv. 67 Cramping, xii. 255, _note_ Crazed, _broken_, iv. 337 Cream (holy), ii. 65 Create, _created_, i. 12, 54 Creature, _Creator_, i. 123, 263 Credit, _to believe_, x. 123 Creke, _see_ crik, iv. 222 Cresset-light, vi. 450 Crevis, _crawfish_, iv. 118 Crik, "to cry crik," _to be afraid_, _to desist_, i. 399 Crinkled, _shrunk_, x. 339 Crishcross, _alphabet_, ix. 42 Crismatory, vi. 71. Crispy, _rippled_, v. 229 Croak, _a croaking_, xii. 160 Croch, iii. 280 Crock, _a pot_, xii. 351 Crone, _an old woman_, xi. 105 Crotchets, _devices_, x. 366 Crouch-cross, ii. 65 Crowded, _crowed_, iii. 201 Crown'd cup, _a bumper_, xii. 39 Cruel (garters), (_garters_) _of fine worsted_, vii. 286 Crust, _curst_, _ill-tempered_, _cross_, ii. 179; _crushed_, iii. 242; _a term of abuse_, vi. 539 Crusty, _angry_, iv. 184 Cry aim, _to consent_, v. 225 Crystals, _eyes_, xiii. 55 Cuckally, _cuckoldy_, vi. 200 Cucking-stool, xii. 127, _note_ Cuckold, _to make a cuckold of one_, xi. 119 Cuckoldy, _like a cuckold_, xi. 110 Cuerpo, xiii. 278 Cues, _note_, iv. 367 Cullies, _fine broths_, ix. 366 Culling, _thrashing_, _beating_, iv. 120 Cullion, _a base fellow_, iii. 239 Cullon, _cullion_, ii. 305 Culm, _top_, iv. 313 Culver, _a dove_, x. 153 Culverings, x. 325 Cumber'd, _troubled_, i. 54, 101 Cumbrance, _encumbrance_, i. 256 Cunning, _knowledge_, _learning_, i. 7, 10; _learned_, i. 7 Cunningly, _learnedly_, i. 37 Curchy, _to crouch_, _bend_, iii. 272 Cure, _care_, i. 13, 294 Curmudgeonly, vi. 380 Curst, _ill-tempered_, _angry_, iii. 278; vii. 474 Cursy, _courtesy_, viii. 339 Curtain lectures, xiv. 303 Curtal horse, _a short-tailed horse_, iii. 210; viii. 124 Cusp, see _note_, xi. 344 Customage, _freight_, xii. 99 Cut, _a short-tailed horse_, _a term of abuse_, iii. 216; x. 224; xi. 69 Cut and long-tail, xiii. 84 Cuts, _lots_, xv. 130 Cutter, _swaggerer_, xiii. 16 Dad, _father_, x. 359 Daintrels, _dainties_, iii. 192 Dainty, _rare_, i. 365 Dalliance, _gossip_, i. 293, 355; iii. 167; xii. 240 Dally, _vb. trs._, vii. 134 Dallying, _toying_, xi. 58 Dam and brat, _mother and child_, viii. 284 Damn, "a damn-me," _a swearer_ xi. 139 Dandiprat, _dwarf_, ix. 390 Danger, _control_, i. 54; _power_, iii. 62 Dangerous, _suspicious_, iii. 309 Dapper, _spruce_, _smart_, iv. 84; ix. 229 Darby's bands, ii. 362 Dare net, _a net for frightening birds into_, x. 149 Darkling, _in the dark_, iii. 105; vii. 339, 358 Daster, _a dastard_, i. 395 Date, _end or term of life_, vii. 90; viii. 465 Daubing, _deceit_, i. 159 Daw, _a fool_, i. 8; ii. 285 Dawcock, _a fool_, iv. 119 Day's eyes, _daisies_, viii. 31, 33 Daysman, _an umpire_, iii. 14 Dazzle, _a dazzling array_, xv. 116 Dealt, _distributed_, xi. 470 Debate, _strife_, i. 411; vi. 178 Deboshed, _debauched_, xiii 195; _spoilt_, xii. 512 Decard, _to throw away a card_, x. 187 Decay, _ruin_, i. 293 Deepness, _depth_, i. 18; ii. 263 Defail, _to fail_, x. 128 Defame, _defamation_, vii. 56, 376; x. 311; xii. 104 Defend, _to forbid_, iv. 143 Defendam, xv. 143 Deft, _handy, dexterous_, ix. 394 Defy, _to deny_, in. 228; _refuse_, viii. 199 Degenerous, _degenerate_, xii. 507 Deject, _dejected_, i. 101 Delayed, _checked_, i. 81; _diluted_, xiii. 114 Dele, _whit_, xii. 284; xv. 426 Delibate, _to taste of_, xiii. 468 Delicates, _delicacies_, ii. 220 Delices, _delicacies_, ix. 171 Deliver, _active_, viii. 197 Dell, _deal_, _bit_, _part_, i. 235 Delve, _to dig_, iii. 183 Demand, _to ask_, _question_, i. 85; vi. 80 Demanding, _a request_, i. 84 Demean, _to behave_, vii. 290 Demeaning, _behaviour_, i. 84 Demesnes, _estates_, ix. 473 Demi-assignation, xv. 61 Demi-culverings, x. 325 Demi-deity, _demi-god_, xiv. 74 Denay, _to deny, refuse_, i. 257; vii. 52, 330 Dent, _dint_, iv. 215 Deny, _to refuse_, vii. 298 Depardieu, _by God_, xii. 240 Depart, _to separate, part_, i. 129, 404; ii. 6; viii. 134; ix. 479 Deprave, _to depreciate_, _defame_, i. 32; iv. 257; viii. 64; xi. 119; xiii. 172 Dere, _to injure_, i. 252 Dern, _secret_, xii. 284, 311 Derogate, _to detract from_, xi. 479 Derogation, _detraction_, _depreciation_, xi. 499 Descant, _a musical term_, v. 218; ix. 407 Descried, _discovered_, vii. 344 Descrive, _to describe_, i. 32 Desertful, _meritorious_, viii. 186 Desertfully, _meritoriously_, viii. 132 Designments, _designs_, xiv. 147 Desperateness, _despair_, x. 149 Despite, "in despite of," _in spite of_, i. 132; vii. 153; _to treat cruelly_, vi. 150; _spite_, _cruelty_, xi. 478 Despiteful, _cruel_, _spiteful_, v. 22 Devoir, _duty,_ ii. 231; x. 128 Dice, _to lose by dice_, xi. 94 Dicker, _ten_, "_a dicker of hides_," vii. 303; _name of a coin_, xv. 131 Dict, _a saying_, i. 54 Dight, _prepared_, _arrayed_, i. 24, 227, 252, 409; _arraign_ (?), i. 274 Dighter, _preparer_, i. 422 Digne, _worthy_, xii. 242 Diligence, _a spy_, xv. 58 Ding'd, _struck_, v. 26 Dis, _Pluto_, x. 349 Disaster, _disastrous_, vii. 481 Disbowelled, _disembowelled_, vii. 83 Disburse, _disbursement_, x. 199 Discern'd, _distinguished_, xi. 481 Discommend, _to dispraise_, i. 343 Disconsonancy, _unfitness_,(?), xv. 125 Discurtain, xiv. 280 Disdain, _to treat disdainfully_, ii. 167 Disease, _distress_, _trouble_, i. 87; _to trouble_, _disturb_, i. 203; ii. 191 Disfeature, _to deform_, xiv. 291 Disgest, _digest_, vii. 310 Dishonest, _to disgrace_, ix. 258 Dishonurate, _dishonourable_, viii. 297 Dismissed, _dispersed_, xiv. 350 Disobediency, _disobedience_, xi. 464 Dispilled, _spilled_, i. 251 Disport, _sport_, i. 45; ii. 111 Dispose, _disposal_, vi. 556 Dispossess, _to disinherit_, xiv. 190 Disquietness, _unrest_, vii. 304 Disrank, _to disarray_, xi. 264 Disrelish, _dislike_, xiv. 314, 352 Dissard, } Dizard, } _a fool_, ii. 304; ix. 383 Dissemblance, _a dissembling_, ix. 285 Distain'd, _stained_, vii. 111, 1791 Distaste, _displeasure,_ xi. 454; xiv. 242 Distemper, _to disturb_, vii. 64, 123; _ill-temper_, xi. 197; xiv. 206 Distemperature, _distemper_, ix. 453; x. 116 Distemper'd, _unreasonable_, x. 209 Distempering, viii. 113 Distinctiveness, _power of distinguishing,_ xv. 22 Distraught, _distracted_, v. 113 Distressful, _distressed_, v. 68 Diversely, _differently_, i. 14 Divinity, _divine institution_, i. 133 Do, _done_, i. 156 Doat, _to rave_, _be mad_, iii. 211; _to act the fool_, xiv. 185 Doccy, _doxy_, _a loose wench_, i. 188 Dock, _tail_, i. 247, 425 Documents, _teachings_, ii. 50 Doff (= do off), _a put-off_, _the cold shoulder_ (?), ix. 276 Dog's, _God's_, _an oath_, ii. 84 Dole, _lot_, iv. 21; _allowance to poor_, xi. 208; _grief,_ vii. 205 Dolent, _invalid_, _sufferer_, i. 82 Doll, _mistress_, _sweetheart_, ii. 169 Dolour, _pain_, _grief_, i. 55, 119; ii. 314 Dolt, _a fool_, iii. 343 Dolted, _acted-like a dolt_, iii. 19 Doltish, _foolish_, ix. 440 Don, _a lord_, xiv. 285 Done, _to do_, xii. 257 Doom, _judgment_, "day of doom," i. 111 Dop, _to dip_, i. 318 Dossers, _panniers_, x. 224; _a basket_, xi. 43 Dotard, _a fool_, xii. 190 Dottrel, } Dotterel, } _a fool_, xiii. 43; xiv. 300, 319 Doubt, _fear_, i. 252, 256, 257; vii. 400 Doughty, _doughtily_, i. 252 Dowdy, _a slattern_, vii. 475 Down, _a hill_, i. 250 Down-flat, _plain_, xv. 140 Doxy, _a whore_, _a loose wench_, xiv. 281, 286, 291; xv. 68 Drab, _a loose woman_, _a term of abuse_, iii. 202 Draff, _dregs_, _rubbish_, i. 25 Drawlatch, _a thief_, ii. 222; xi. 249 Dreariment, _dreariness_, vii. 152 Drench, _potion_, _drink_, vii. 303 Drifts, _devices_, xii. 52 Drivel, _slave_, _wretch_, _fool_, i. 222; iv. 119 Drolling, _droll_ (?), xiv. 278, 356 Dronel, _a drone_, iv. 151 Drumble, _a sleepyhead_, iv. 118 Drumsler, _a drummer_, v. 303 Drunk as a mouse, ii. 300 Duck, _to make a salutation by bending the head_, iii. 78; xiv. 125 Ducks and drakes, xi. 212; xii. 150 Dudgeon, _a dagger_, v. 271 Duello, _a duel_, xi. 44 Dulcet, _sweet_, iv. 143 Dulsome, _sweet_, ii. 297 Dump, _the dumps_, iii. 180 Dumps, iii. 87; xii. 214 Duns, _writings of Duns Scotus_, iii. 19; _one versed in writings of_, iii. 20; _Duns Scotus_, x. 57 Dup, _to do up_, iv. 69 Durance, _a kind of cloth_, vi. 344 Duretta, _a kind of cloth_, xiii. 222 Dust, _a broil_. "a doughty dust," ii. 390 Duteous, _dutiful_, vii. 400; xi. 452 Eachwhere, _everywhere_, vi. 88 Eanlings, _lambs_, ix. 480 Earst, _first_, iv. 12 Eaths, _easily_, v. 209 Ecstasy, xiii. 511, _note_ Eftsoons, _soon again_, _forthwith_, i. 11; ii. 246; vi. 47; ix. 355 Egg, _to urge on_, iv. 67 Eighths, _octaves_, xii. 507 Eild, _to requite_, iii. 240 Eke, _also_, i. 203; iv. 11 Eld, _age_, vii. 121 Eldeth, _troubleth_, i. 414 Elect, _elected_, i. 101 Election, _choice_, x. 131 Elemental, _elementary_, i. 11 Elfish, _elf-like_, i. 399 Embalming, _using cosmetics_, i. 60 Embas'd, _dishonoured_, v. 210 Embossed, _a hunting term_, xi. 406 Embowelled, _embedded_, vii. 275 Embracement, _embrace_, v. 208 Empery, _empire_, _rule_, v. 191, 233; xii. 520; xiv. 105 Enamoret, xi. 289 Endamage, _to damage_, viii. 76 Endark, _to cause to be dark_, i. 62 Endeavour, _to try to bring about_, x. 156 Endentus (=entendu), _understood_, iii. 263 Ends, "no ends of," xi. 547 Ene, _one_, vi. 72 Enfeoff, _to endow_, ix. 256 Enforcement, _compulsion_, ix. 506 Engeuder'd, _produced_, i. 11 Enginer, _engineer_, xi. 63 Engorged, _disgorged_, ix. 211 Engraven, _engraved_, iv. 296 Enlumine, _to illumine_, i. 126 Ennewed, _painted_, i. 62 Ensample, _example_, i. 70 Ensconced, _hidden_, xiii. 47, _note_ Ensuing, _following_, in. 264 Ensure, _to assure_, i. 62 Ensured, _plighted_, _affianced_, iii. 90 Enthronised, _enthroned_, xi. 485 Entituled, _entitled_, ii. 10 Entreat, _entreaty_, viii. 140 Entreative, ix. 341 Environ, _all round_, i. 6 Envy, _hatred_, x. 58; xiii. 355 Ephemeris, xi. 320 Epitaph, _to write an epitaph_, xii. 506 Epitheton, _epithet_, v. 266 Epythite, _a beggar_, ix. 527 Equivalence, _an equivalent_, vi. 96 Ere, _before_, i. 31 Eremite, _a hermit_, xii. 231 Erewhile, _previously_, _formerly_, i. 32; vii. 211 Errant, _arrant_, xi. 57 Erst, _before_, iv. 125 Eschew, _to avoid_, i. 89; xii. 24 Eschieved, _achieved_, _gained_, i. 77 Espied, _discerned_, i. 78 Essay, _to try_, i. 181 Essex man, _a fool_, xiv. 361, 467 Estate, _state_, i. 7 Estridge, _an ostrich_, xiv. 41 Eterne, _eternal_, i. 11 Eternised, _made eternal_, v. 234 Evenness, _indifference_, _impartiality_, xiv. 200 Ever-each, _every_, v. 242 Everichone, { Everychone, { _every one_, i. 38, 163 (_the note is wrong_) Every deal, _every whit_, i. 33 Excuse, _defence_, ix. 494 Exigent, _exigency_, vi. 546; xiv. 325; xv. 78 Expectance, _expectation_, xi. 95; xiv. 365 Explicate, _to explain_, iv. 236 Expound, _expounded_, i. 37 Express, _expression_, xv. 332 Expression, _a proverb_, xii. 262 Expulsed, _expelled_, i. 59 Extinct, _put out_, i. 375 Extirp, _to extirpate_, v. 226 Extromers, _astronomers_, i. 78 Exulcerate, _to form an ulcer_, xiv. 362 Eyen, } Eyne, } _eyes_, i. 254; iii. 217; xii. 311 +Fable+, _lie_, i. 224; _to lie_, i. 29; _cajole_, i. 68; _deceive_, i. 199 Fabler, _liar_, x. 47 Fablyng, _lying_, i. 78 Face, _pretence_, iii. 17 Face-physick, _a cosmetic_, xi. 133 Faces about, _changes_, xiii. 463 Facts, _deeds_, in. 66; iv. 167 Fader, _a father_, xii. 99 Fadge, _to go_, _proceed_, _succeed_, vii. 418; x. 230; _do_, _suit_, x. 481 Fadock, _faggot_, vi. 77 Fagaries, _vagaries_, xiv 289 Fair, _beauty_, viii. 255 Fairings, viii. 225 Fall, _to come_, _fall out_, i. 852; _cadence_, ix. 406 Fall (the French), x. 122 Famine, _hunger_, vii. 64 Famish (to), ii. 217 Famishment, _death by starving_, viii. 319 Fand, _found_, ii. 15 Fantastic show, _fancy_ (?), xii. 81 Fantasy, _fancy_, i. 7, 312 Far, _for_, vi. 71 Farcing, _stuffing_, ii. 236 Fardingale, ix. 426 Fare, _to go_, i. 251; "fare fore," _to go before_, xiii. 154; _to play_, ii. 115 Farfet, _farfetched_, xi. 401 Farforth, _far_, i. 207 Far-forth day, _late in the day_, ii. 312 Faring, _playing at dice_, ii. 115 Fat, _to fatten_, xii. 451; "to feed fat" = _to fatten_, xi. 515 Fatting, _fattening,_ ix. 516 Faulted, _faulty_, x. 157 Favelle, _flattery_, i. 164 Favour, _look_, _appearance_, i. 78; x. 340 Favoured (ill), _lookling_, xi. 520 Fay, _faith_, i. 111, 133; iii. 113 Faynd, _find_, vi. 74 Fear, _to terrify_ Feard, _terrified_, i. 83 Feat, _neat_, i. 62 Featly, _neatly_, i. 266; ii. 375 Fea'ty, _fealty_, _fidelity_, i. 54, 173 Feebled, _enfeebled_, x. 117 Fegary, _vagary_, _trick_, x. 366 Fell, _cruel_, _fierce_, i. 252; v. 36; xi. 556; _skin_ i. 78 Fellness, _fierceness_, iv. 323 Felt, _felt hats_, xi. 268 Feofee, xii. 33 Ferdegew, iii. 92 Fere, "in fere," _in company_, i. 247 Feres, _a-do_, i. 168 Ferk, _to urge on_, _hasten_, x. 254 Fescennine, _note_, xii. 312 Festination, _haste_, iv. 216 Fet, _to perform_ (?), ii. 384; _to fetch_, i. 43, 83; _fetched_, i. 381; vii. 165 Fetch, _a trick_, ii. 309; xii. 79 Fete, _feet_, i. 31 Fetting, _fetching_, ii. 234 Feutred, _equipped_, i. 376 Fewl, _foul_, xii. 507 Fib, _a liar_, ii. 254 Fierse, _verse_, vii. 190 Fifteens, x. 299 Figary, _vagary_, xiii. 166 File, _to defile_, ii. 216; iv. 110; ix. 511 Filed, _flattering_, iv. 102 Filth, _a term of abuse_, iii. 244 Finden, _to find_, ix. 119 Fined, _refined_, iii. 363 Fines, _defines_, ii. 80 Fire-drake, viii. 168; _will-o'-the-wisp_, ix. 572 Firk, _to cheat_, _trick_, xiv. 391; x. 291, 292, 328 Firk'd, _beaten_, iv. 64 Firker, _a cheat_, xii. 165 Firmable, _firm_, vi. 282 Fisher, _a fisherman_, iv. 164; xii. 115 Fish-hooks, ii. 378 Fit, _air_ (_in music_), i. 246; song, iii. 92; _to suit_, xi. 456 Fivepence, "as fine as fivepence," iv. 118 Flags, _a term used in falconry_, xi. 341 Flanting, _flaunting_, xiii. 150 Flap-dragon, xiii. 44 Flashy, _fiery_, iv. 149 Flat, _plain_, _plainly_, iii. 19, 20; xi. 304; xiv. 398, 399 Flatcap, _a term of abuse_, xi. 152 Flative, _flatulent_, ix. 454 Flaw, _a blast_, vii. 149 Flayn, _flayed_, i. 416 Flecken, _spotted_, xii. 241 Fleet, _to skim_, viii. 443 Flet (=fleeth), _flee ye_, xii. 287 Fletcher, _an arrow-maker_, xiii. 40 Flicker, _to flutter_, xii. 477 Flim-flam, _a flam_, ii. 335 Flinch, _to shrink_, xii. 259 Flincher, _a coward_, xi. 470, 491 Flit, _to depart_, iv. 336; ix. 124 Flout, _to scoff_, _mock_, iv. 119; xi. 39; xii. 313; xiv. 190; _a scoff_, _mock_, x. 523 Flush, ii. 78 Fly-flops, xii. 331 Fode, _person_, i. 243, 247 Foggy, _flabby_, viii. 371 Foil (of a jewel), vii. 288; _a defeat_, iv. 322; _to defeat_, iv. 332 Foils, _set-offs_, xiii. 148 Foin, _thrust_, _push_, ii. 389, 392; _to fence_, xii. 285 Foist, _to cheat,_ xi. 67; _a cheat_, _deception_, vi. 257; xiv. 359 Fold, _bend_, i. 135 Folt, _a fool_, ii. 304 Fond, _foolish_, iv. 125; x. 192; xi. 129 Fondly, _foolish_, vii. 63 Fondness, _folly_, iv. 55; xii. 8 Fong, _to take_, i. 257, 259 Fool, _a term of endearment_, i. 71, 72 For, _by_, i. 85; _from_, i. 135 Forbode, _prohibition_, "God's forebode" = _God forbid_, i. 68; _forbidden_, i. 212, 226; _forbad_, i. 285 Force, _to care,_ i. 34; iii. 39; _matter_, _worth_, i. 8, 47; iii. 129; "of force," _necessarily_, iii. 255; iv. 19; vii. 503 Forceth, _it matters_, i. 214 Fordoth, _ruins_, i. 68 Fordull, _very dull_, ii. 368 Fore, _before_, i. 343 Foredulled, _very dull_, vii. 32 Forefend, _to defend_, iv. 377; _to forbid_, vii. 18 Foreflow, xiv. 287 Forepassed, _overpassed_, ii. 386; xi. 475 Forespoken, _bewitched_, vii. 465 Forethink, _to repent_, ii. 6 Foretop, _forelock_, xiv. 311 Foreween, _to think of beforehand_, iv. 302 Forfeit, _forfeited_, x. 196 Forfend, _to forbid_, vii. 168, 411; x. 255 Forge, _to frame_, _mould_, i. 84 Forged, _fabricated_, iv. 102 Forked crest, xiv. 140 Forlet, _to stop_, iv. 152 Forlore, } Forlorn, } _ruined_, _lost_, i. 147, 172, 269 Formosity, _beauty_, iv. 111 Forne, _before_, ix. 104 Forsworn, _perjured_, xiii. 148 Forth, _out_, _from_, ix. 564; xii. 174; xi. 485 Fortitude, _an astrological term_, xi. 319 Fortunates, _an astrological term_, xi. 319 Fortune, _to happen_, ii. 111 Foster, _fosterer_, iv. 143 Foulter, _to falter_, iv. 314, 327 Found, _kept_, _supported_, i. 244 Fox, _a sword_, vii. 318; xiv. 387; _to intoxicate_, xiii. 28 Foxed, _drunk_, xi. 448, 524 Foyson, _plenty_, xi. 380 Frame, _to put_, iii. 21; _to turn out will_, iii. 70; _to try_, iv. 190; xi. 12; _the gallows_, i. 158 Franion, _a loose fellow_, iv. 60; vi. 179 Frappet, _a pet_, ix. 548 Fraudful, _fraudulent_, v. 363 Fraught, _laden_, xi. 471 Fraughtage, _freight_, xii. 141 Fraughted, _freighted,_ xiv. 353; _laden_, viii. 337 Fray, _affray_, _fight_, i. 41; _to terrify_, iii. 131; vii. 313; _to scare_, x. 412 Frayd, _terrified_, v. 201 Frea, _from_, vi. 71 Free, _destitute of money_, iii. 347 Freedom, _generosity_, i. 84 Freely, _nobly_, i. 244 Fremman, _a stranger_, ii. 210 French hood, iii. 28 Frere, _friar,_ i. 155, 200; _brother_, i. 188 Fright, _to frighten_, viii. 389 Friscols, _friskings_, ii. 367, 384 Friskas, _friskings_, i. 44 Friskin, _friskingly_, xiv. 125 Fro, _from_, i. 185 Frolic (to) v. 15; viii. 158 Frolicsome, vii. 173 Front, _face_, xiv. 42 Frontisterion, _entrance to a house_, xi. 310 Frontless, xiv. 284 Froutlet, _forehead_, i. 350 Frounced, iv. 321 Frumping, _frumpy_, xi. 104 Fucus, xiv. 290; _paint used as a cosmetic_, x. 274 Fullam, _note_, xii. 124 Fume, _passion_, xii. 423 Fumishness, _anger_, i. 400 Furbish, _to clean clothes_, ix. 553 Furmenty, _frumenty_, ix. 155 Furnycard, ii. 78 Furth, _forth_, ii. 46 Fustigation, xv. 32 Ga, _gave_, iii. 193 Gaberdine, _a long frock_, xiv. 125 Gaffer, _godfather_, vi. 399 Gage, _pledge_, iii. 233; vi. 311 Gaged, _gauged_, i. 148 Gagtooth, _a large tooth_, viii. 119 Gainful, _advantageous_, viii. 35; xi. 547; _meritorious_, xiv. 117 Gallant, _to act the gallant_, x. 125 Galley-foist, _a pleasure-boat_, xiv. 385 Galliard, _a dance_, ii. 117, 372 Gallon, _gallant_, viii. 344 Gallow-tree, _the gallows_, ii. 15; viii. 189 Gallymawfries, _cowards_ (_properly a dish of remnants_), xii. 166 Gambawds, _gambols_, i. 44 Gan, _did_, xii. 242 Gang, _to go_, xii. 257 Gape, _to desire_, iv. 353; ix. 519 Gar, _to cause_, _mate_, vi. 70; xii. 507; _to force_, x. 363 Gard, _welt_, vii. 213 Garded, _laced_, xi. 366 Garden-house, x. 135 Garden-plot, v. 155 Gardings, _trimmings of a dress_, x. 121 Garish, _gay_, _fine_, x. 199 Gash, _tear in a garment_, iii. 176 Gauding, _toying_, iii. 109 Gaudish, _gaudy_, i. 286 Gaurdon, _reward_, _recompense_, i. 206 Gauds, _gauderies_, x. 175; _gaudy toys_, iv. 130 Gazet, _name of a coin_, xv. 128 Gear, _matter_, _business_, ii. 302; xi. 204; _costume_, iii. 28 Geason, _scarce_, ii. 319; iv. 138; vii. 130 Gelt, _gelded_, xiv. 396 Generate, _generated_, i. 13 Genman, _a gentleman_, iii. 160 Gentle, _gentle hearer_, iv. 396; _noble_, i. 81, 147 Gergon, _jargon_, _talk_, xii. 241 German clock, xii. 231 Gewgaw, xiv. 291 Gib, _a term of contempt_, iii. 215 Gibb'd, _castrated_, xiii. 31 Gibe, _to taunt_, iv. 330; _to mock_, viii. 365 Gibridge, _gibberish_, viii. 75 Gif, _if_, vi. 75; xii. 507 Gimmal, _a ring_, ix. 372 Gin, _a snare_, xii. 232; _a trick_, xii. 242; _a wire trap_, xi. 134; _contrivance_, i. 246 Gin, _to begin_, x. 338; _do_, xii. 507 Ging, _a gang_, viii. 145 Gingerly, _delicately_, i. 147; _mincingly_, ii. 22. Gi'r (= give her), iii. 217 Gird, "at a gird," _in a trice_, ii. 331; _to strike_, i. 429 Girl, _a roebuck two years old_, ix. 148 Gis, _Jesus_, ii. 129; iii. 225 Gittern, iii. 87; ix. 444; xv. 114 Give aim, _to incite_, x. 85 Glad, _to gladden_, xi. 516 Glassing (= glassen), _of glass_, i. 62 Glave, x. 358; _a sword_, ix. 362; xii. 477 Glay, _a dirty wench_, iii. 176 Gleek, _three_, xi. 217, 364; _a term used in card-playing_, xi. 395 Gleering, _leering_, ix. 191 Glister, _to glitter_, _to shine_, i. 252; xi, 432, 485; x. 218 Gloming, _lowering_, iii. 59 Glooming, _sultriness_, iii. 220 Glorify, _to boast_, i. 68 Glose, _to flatter_, i. 7; _gloss_, iii. 12 Gloser, _a flatterer_, iii. 224; _liar_, iii. 43 Glosing, _flattering_, vii. 165 Gloss, _to glose_, i. 199 Glossing, _commenting_, iii. 198 Glustering, _glistering_, xii. 351 Go-by, "a go-by," xv. 17 Go forth, _to proceed_, i. 17 Go prig, x. 288 Gob, _mouthful_, x. 273 God-a-marsy, _God of mercy_, iii. 313 God-a-mercy, xi. 452 God Mary mother, _marry_! vii. 405, 489 God's dear holy bread, viii. 267 God's Mary, _marry_! vii. 472 God's nigs, _an oath_, xiv. 422 God's so (=God's sonties), _God's sanctities_, xiv. 145 Gog, "on gog," _agog_, iv. 302 Gog's, _God's_, i. 20, 42 Gog's nails, _an oath_, i. 41 Gold the nerves of war, xii. 61 Goliardis, _a buffoon_; _note_, xii. 240 Goll, _hand_, _fist_, x. 92, 357 Golpol, _a term of endearment_, ii. 260 Good, _goods_, i. 152 Goodden, _good even_, x. 544 Gooseling, _a gosling_, xiv. 356 Gorbelly, _a glutton_, ix. 434 Gorboil, _turmoil_, x. 287 Goreblood, _gore_, ii. 273 Gorget, xiv. 464 Gorse, _furze_, v. 190 Goss, i. 232, 233; iii. 113 Gostly, _spiritual_, xv. 420 Got, _begotten_, i. 107 Governance, _control_, i. 150, 164 Government, _control_, x. 122 Gracious, _graceful_, ix. 342 Graff, _graft_, ii. 173; _to graft_, iii. 58 Gramercy, _great thanks_, i. 250; ix. 192 Grandsire, _great_ (?), iv. 130 Grannam, ix. 251; _grandmother_, _grand-dame_, xii. 329 Grate, viii. 241 Graved, _troubled_ (?), iv. 143; _buried_, ix. 124 Gravel, _to sand_, x. 21 Gravelled, xiv. 204 Gredaline, _pucker'd_, xiv. 418 Greedy, _greed_, iv. 193; "greedy fates," iv. 302 Grenning, _gnashing_, iv. 323 Grief, _ill-will_, _grievance_, iii. 153 Gripe, _to grasp_, iii. 273; _vulture_, vii. 60; _to pinch_, xi. 63 Griping, _a grasp_, xii. 231 Grisly, _dreadful_, i. 252; iv. 302; _horrible_, xii. 25, 502 Gristless, _without muscle_, viii. 278 Gromaly-seed, _gromuiell seed_, i. 422 Groom, _man_, i. 252; iv. 283; ix. 128 Grope, _to search_, iii. 184, iv. 176, 216 Gross, _coarse_, ii. 212 Ground, _a musical term_, ix. 338 Grutch, _to grudge_, _murmur_, _to grumble_, i. 63; iii. 133 Gude, _good_, vi. 71 Guerdon, _a reward_, iv. 337; vii. 122; ix. 448; xii. 311, 476 Guerdonless, _rewardless_, viii. 343 Guess, _to deem_, i. 57; _a guest_, viii. 180 Guid, _guide_, iv. 137 Guider, _a guide_, i. 172 Guise, _mode_, _way_, _fashion_, i. 73; ii. 260, 312 Gulch, _a pool_, ix. 452 Gumm'd, _dimmed_, v. 132 Gush, _to weep_, xi. 30 Guzzle, _throat_, xii. 349 Gyre, _a circle_, ix. 358 Gyve, _a fetter_, i. 170, 171; vii. 79 Gyved, _fettered_, i. 156 Habergeon, } Habergin, } _a small coat-of-mail_, i. 149, 399, 400 Hadiwist, _had I known_, _vain after regret_, vi. 457; vii. 356 Haggard, _a wild hawk_, v. 36; ix. 379; xiii. 161; xiv. 344 Halcyon, _favourable_, ii. 99 Hale, _to drag_, iv. 139; xiv. 479 Half-acre (_not_ halse acre), iii. 178 Half-god, _a demi-god_, x. 127 Halidom, _an oath_; _properly sacred relics_, _the sacrament_, vii. 467 Hally, _holy_, vi. 71 Halse, _neck_, iii. 240 Han, _have_, vi. 71 Handkercher, _handkerchief_, iv. 140 Handle, _to treat_, iv. 63 Handling, _treatment_, i. 2 7 Handsel, _earnest-money_, xii. 335; _to handsel_, viii. 426 Handwork, _handiwork_, i. 250 Handy, _hand to hand_, v. 13 Hanker, _to hang_, ix. 379 Hap, _to happen_, i. 81; v. 111; x. 183; xi. 456; _fortune_, ii. 393 Happiless, _unhappy_, xi. 144 Happily, _perhaps_, xiii. 362 Harborough, { Harborow, { _harbour_, i. 228; vii. 85 Hardness, _hardship_, i. 298 Harecop, _a hair-brained fellow_, iv. 73 Harlot, _a (low) fellow_, i. 253 Harlotry, _obscene_, viii. 351 Harness, _armour_, iv. 329 Harnessed, _equipped_, i. 395; iv. 176 Harri'd, _abused_, x. 27 Harrow, _note_, xii. 253 Hasp, _a fastening_, ii 338; _to embrace_, x. 66 Hatch, _a wicket-gate_, vi. 535 Haught, _haughty_, v. 230; viii. 132; xiv. 442 Haunt, _to frequent_, i. 134; _practise_, i. 249 Hauster, _note_, viii. 444 Haviour, _behaviour_, x. 35; xi. 452 Haxter, xiv. 282 Hay, _hedge_, i. 401; _a net for catching rabbits_, vii. 341 Haydegyve, _a kind of dance_, xii. 507 Hazard, _risk_, xv. 225; _game_, ii. 34; _plot of a tennis-court_, ix. 381 Haze, _note_, iii. 110 He, _one_, iv. 357 He and she, _man and woman_, xiv. 443 Heal, _salvation_, i. 199, 212 Heale, xv. 425 Heart of grace, _courage_, xii. 212 Heats, "ride his heats," xv. 129 Hedgecreeper, _a term of contempt_, ii. 251 Heightening, _aggravation_, xv. 92 Heildom, _properly "health," but here seems a corruption of "hilding," a caitiff, slave_, xiii. 43 Heir, _an heiress_, ix. 535 Hele, _health_, _salvation_, i. 129 Helic, _a term in astrology_, xi. 336 Helm, _helmet_, i. 149 Helter-skelter, _to waste_, vii. 436 Hem, _to clear the throat_, iv. 69; _talkative_, i. 74 Hemuse, _a roebuck of three years old_, ix. 148 Hend, _courteous_, i. 250 Heng, _to hang_, i. 134 Hent, _to seize_, xii. 311 Herber, _arbour_, ii. 46 Heritor, _inheritor_, ii. 8 Herme, _harm_, xii. 311 Heronsew, ii. 282 Herry, _to harry_, i. 30 Hest, _behest_, _command_, vii., 18; xi. 99 Hey-pass, _a term in legerdemain_, x. 306 Hey troly lolly, i. 20. Hidder, _hither_, xii. 507 High, "a high," _loudly_, i. 23; _aloud_, i. 33 Highmen and lowmen, xii. 243, _note_ Hight, } Highteth, } _is called_, i. 56; xii. 241, 253 Hind, _a peasant_, xii. 224 Hing, _to hang_, i. 274 Hire, _to reward_, i. 364; _a reward_, vii. 59; viii. 360 His, _its_, i. 12 His noun, _his own_, viii. 76 Ho, _bounds_, ix. 390 Hoart, _hurt_, xii. 253 Hobby (_hawk_), ix. 379 Hobil, _a term of abuse_, iii. 103 Hoddypeak, } Hoddypeke, } Hodypeak, } Huddypeke, } _a fool, a term of contempt_, i. 42; ii. 164, 211; iii. 217 Hodmandod, _a snail_, _a term of abuse_, xiv. 525 Hoise, _to hoist_, iii. 34, 218 Hold, _to bet_, ii. 275 Hold bias, xii. 280 Holes (nine), iii. 9 Holidam. See _Halidom_, iv. 219, 244 Hollen, _of holly_, i. 49 Holp, _helped_, i. 85, 191 Holt, _wood_, _grove_, i. 148 Holy, _holly_, _wholly_, i. 359 Honesty, _honest people_, iii. 228 Honor, _credit_, _reputation_, iv. 98, 185 Hope, _to expect_, xii. 132 Hop-holiday, ii. 379 Horrid, _bristling_, xi. 527 Hostelity, _hospitality_, v. 398 Hot, _did hit_, vii. 276 Hotchpotch, _a pudding_, ix. 183 Hoten, xii. _called_, 255 Hough, _to hamstring_, ix. 457; xiv. 164 Hound-fish, _dog-fish_, xii. 241 Hoved, _abode_, i. 178 How, _who_, xiv. 458 Howlet, _an owl_, iii. 87 Hucklebone, iii. 180 Hud, _to hood_(?), xi. 353 Huddle, _thick_, ix. 269 Huff, } _an exclamation_, i. 20, 188; ii. 13 Huffa, } Huff, _anger_, vii. 311 Hugeously, _much_, xii. 276 Huggermugger, _in secret_, viii. 84; x. 91 Hugy, _huge_, v. 106 Humblesse, _humility_, viii. 166 Humorist, _a madman_, ix. 17 Humorous, _fanciful_, _capricious_, _ill tempered_, v. 31; vii. 433; xiv. 296 Hundreth, _a hundred_, vii. 278 Husbanded, _economised_, xi. 355 Husbandry, _economy_, iii. 16; v. 189; xi. 63 Hussy, _housewife_, xiv. 331 Huswife, _huzzy_, vii. 250; _applied to a man_, vii. 303(?) Hydroptic, xiv. 288 Hyghten, } _called_, i. 129, 275; xii. 254 Hyght, } Ibroken, _broken_, i. 49 Ich, _I_, i. 73; ii. 169; iii. 175 Icha, _I have_, iii. 227 Ichotte, _I wot_, _I know_, iii. 75 Iclipped, _called_, v. 363 I-dight, _prepared_, i. 243 Ield, _to reward_, iii. 75 Ifare, _to go_, v. 395 Ilk, _same_, i. 264; _each_, vi. 71 Ilkwhare, _everywhere_, vi. 71 Illicentiate, _not lawfully licensed_, xiv. 283 Ill-mutton, _a strumpet_, xi. 43 Ill-part, _malapert_(?), viii. 250 Illumine, _to illuminate_, i. vi. Illustrate, _to make illustrious_, xv. 229 Immeriting, _undeserving_, xiv. 307 Imp, _to graft_, xi. 346 Impale, _to surround with pall_(?), vii. 112 Impal'd, _surrounded_, viii. 165 Imp'd, xii. 530. Impede, _impediment_, xiv. 362 Impoisoned, _poisoned_, viii. 38 Impoisoning, _poisoning_, xi. 566 Import, _importance_, vii. 471; _to concern_, xv. 23 Imports, _is necessary_, xv. 102 Importune, _importunate_, i. 54; _to be importunate_, xi. 109 Impossible, _impossibility_, i. 152 Imposthumes, _boils_, i. 66 Impostume, _a boil_, xi. 343 Impostur'd, _deceived_, xiv. 352 Imprese, _impress_, xiv. 293 Imprinted, _printed_, i. 7 Imps, _scions_, xii. 450 Impudency, _impudence_, ix. 191; x. 31. Incertain, _uncertain_, vii. 195 Incomposed, _indisposed_, xiv. 198 Incontinent, _forthwith_, i. 48 Inconveniency, _inconvenience_, xi. 442 Indeniz'd, _one made free_, xii. 472 Indent (to), ii. 213 Indifferent, _impartial_, i. 415; v. 405 Indifferently, _impartially_, viii. 32 Indite, _to compose_ (_ballads_), i. 7 Indulgency, xiii. 466 Infect, _infected_, i. 302 Inferial, _below_, _mundane_, i. 9 Influence (of the stars), i. 11; vii. 63; xii. 339 Ingenious, _ingenuous_, 13, 53 Ingeniously, _ingenuously_, xiv. 281 Ingram, _ignorant_, vi. 397 Inis, _I am not_, xii. 287 Inkhorn, _pedantic_, viii. 70 Inquisition, _inquiry_, xiii. 156 Insame, _together_, i. 245, 247 Insculp'd, _engraved_, xii. 202 Insculption, _inscription_, x. 12 Insensate, _without feeling_, i. 12 Insensitive, _irrational_, xi. 144 Insidiate, _to plot_, xii. 605 Insolency, _insolence_, xiv. 200 Insort, _to distribute_, vii. 425 Inspire, _to breathe into_, xiv. 105 Insufferable, _unbearable_, x. 194 Insurance, _affiance_, iii. 136 Insure, _to assure_, iv. 220 Intea, _into_, vi. 71 Intellection, _knowledge_, i. 124; _understanding_, ii. 263 Intellective, _intellectual_, i. 12 Intelligence, _watch, spying_, x. 174; _a spy_, xi. 337 Intelligencer, _a spy_, _informer_, xi. 319, 554 Intelliment, _meaning_, i. 421 Intemperance, _lust_, viii. 303 Intend, _to pretend_, ii. 369 Intendiment, _intention_, x. 129 Intending, _intention_, i. 63 Intendment, _intention_, viii. 454 Intendments, _intentions_, xiv. 117 Intent, _intention_, xi. 455; _purpose_, xi. 465 Intentive, _attentive_, vii. 172 Intermete, _intermeddle_, xii. 286 Inter-parley, vii. 186 Interrogative, _a question_, xi. 279 Intreat, _to treat_, i. 237 Invective, _abusive_, viii. 75 Inversation, i. 268 Invocate, _invoke_, xv. 210 Inward, _intimate_, x. 38, 305, 434 Ipocras (wine), xi. 194 Ireful, _angry_, i. 81 Irked, _irksome_, ix. 176 Irremeable, _having no way of return_, xi. 567 Ise, _I will_, iii. 218 Ish, _I will_, i. 231, 232 Issue, _outlet_, xv. 88 I-the, _to prosper_, i. 155 I-wis, _truly_, i. 42; xii. 240 I-wiss, _truly_, i. 14 Jack, _jacket_, xi. 138 Jack-a-lent, xi. 262 Jack of beer, vii. 218 Jacksnipe, xiv. 450 Jack sprat, ii. 357 Jade, _a strumpet_, vi. 257 Jadishly, _like a jade_, xiv. 285 Jakes, _a privy_, x. 339 Jangler, _a babbler_, ix. 397; _jester_, xii. 240 Janty, _jaunty_, xiv. 401, 506 Jape, _jest_, _trick_, iii. 245; viii. 389 Japed, _deceived_, i. 171 Javel, _a fool_, iv. 150 Jawled, _nagged_, ix. 252 Jaxes, _privies_, ii. 276 Jealous, _suspicious_, xiii. 424 Jeltron, _shelter_, _shield_, i. 149 Jeopard (to), _risk_, i. 412; ii. 252; _to lay a bet_, iii. 309 Jeopardous, _hazardous_, i. 185 Jerted, _jerked_, viii. 52 Jerts, _jerks_, ii. 194 Jest, _deed_, vii. 186; _part played in a mask_, viii. 114 Jet, _to go_, _strut_, i. 356, 384; xiv. 176, 181 Jetter, _strutter_, i. 164, 384 Jetting, _strutting_, iii. 108; vii. 191 Jis, _Jesus_, i. 168 Jobbed, _struck_, i. 442 Jobbernole, _pate_ (?), viii. 446 Job-nut, xiv. 306 Jockey, _Jack_, xii. 156 Jollity, i. 164 Jolly-tiraber'd, _finely-built_, vii. 145 Jouissauce, _joy_, vii. 192, 493 Joust, i. 74 Joyen, _to rejoice_, i. 249 Joying, _rejoicing_, _joy_, ii. 297, 320 Jug, _a strumpet_, iv. 183; _mistress_, vi. 511; viii. 409; _term of endearment_, xii. 115 Jumbler, _a strumpet_, x. 111 Juments, _beasts of burden_, xii. 234 Jump, _exactly_, iv. 366; _to agree_, viii. 430; x. 184; _to eke_, xiii. 63 Jump'd, _agreed_, xiv. 248 Justicer, _a judge_, xiii. 462 Jut, _a jostle_, iii. 102 Jutty, _to jut_, iv. 121 Keep, _care_, i. 202; ii. 233 Keep touch, x. 9 Keisar, _emperor_, ix. 202 Kembeth, _combs_, xii. 242 Kembs, _combs_, xii. 463 Kempt, _combed_, i. 376 Ken, _to show_, _teach_, i. 273; _to thank_, iv. 61 Kercher, _covering for head_, xiv. 464 Kerchief, _a covering for the head_, i. 429 Kern, _an Irish soldier_, iv. 308 Kest, _cast_, i. 179 Kestrel, _a hawk_, ix. 111 Kex, _hemlock_, ix. 534; xiv. 309 Kickshaws (_for_ bashaw), xii. 280 Kind, _nature_, i. 113; iii. 312; _natural_, i. 245; "of kind," _naturally_, i. 246; iii. 210 Kit, _a musical instrument_, i. 48 Killing, _a kitten_, x. 349 Kit-strings, _strings for the kit or fiddle_, xii. 220 Knack, _trick_, ii. 214 Knacking (to be), iv. 121 Knacks, _knick-knacks_, i. 349; viii. 157 Knap, _blow_, i. 422; _to knock_, i. 428 Kneve, _knave_, viii. 122 Knit, _bound_, _united_, xi. 473; xiv. 153 Knocked bread, i. 405 Knotted (_read_ netted), _cut_, ii. 135 Knottle, _knotted_, iii. 333 Knowing, _knowledge_, i. 249 Knowledge, _to acknowledge_, i. 293 Knowlition, _knowledge_, i. 89 Ko, _quote_, iii. 103 Kock's nowns, _God's wounds_ (_an oath_), iii. 79 Koss, _kiss_, iii. 75 Lack, _like_, vi. 71 Lacquey, _to act as lacquey_, xiv. 111 Lad, _led_, i. 160 Lade, _load_, i. 31 Ladyfied, _made a lady_, x. 321 Ladyware, _genital organs_, v. 345 Laft, _left_, i. 28, 68 Lag, _late_, ii. 252; _to linger_, x. 48 Laken (=lady-kin), _the Virgin Mary_, x. 497 Lamback, _to beat_, vi. 204 Lambeak _or_ Lamback, _to strike_, viii. 305 Lambswool, ix. 424 Lanard, ix. 379 Lance presado, _the leader of a half file of soldiers_, xiv. 328 Landskip, _landscape_, x. 178; xiv. 300; xv. 116 Lang, _long_, vi. 73 Lap-clap, _to embrace_, ix, 252 Larum, _alarm_, iv. 320; xiii. 110 Lash, _snare_, vi. 254 Lass, _less_, i. 256 Late, _lately_, i. 6 Lathe, _barn_, xii. 507 Latten, _brass_, ix. 393 Laud, _to praise_, i. 131; _praise_, i. 54, 397 Laundress, _a woman employed at an Inns-of-Court_, x. 275; xiii. 231 Lave, _long_, ix. 304 Laverock, _lark_, i. 425 Lavolta, _a dance_, ix. 408. Lavoltoe, xiv. 111 Lawless, _illegal_, ix. 74 Lay (= waylay), xiii. 253 Layk, _like_, vi. 76 Lay out, "_put out to interest_" xi. 363 Laytell, _little_, vi. 72 Lazars, _lepers_, viii. 70 Lead, _a caldron_, iii. 231 Leady, _heavy_, i. 85 Lease, _a leash_, iii. 355 Leech, _surgeon_, i. 168; _physician_, x. 115 Lefe, _dear_, xii. 288 Leg, _a bow_, xiv. 443. Leger wafers, xii. 334 Leman, _a sweetheart_, _concubine_, _mistress_, ii. 20; iv. 143; _note_, xiii. 497; xiv. 296 Leme, _gleam_, i. 64 Lemen, _laymen_, vi. 71 Lenger, _longer_, i. 29, 103 Lenity, _softness_, v. 388 Lese, _to lose_, i. 74, 83, 156; iv. 194 Lesing, _leasing_, _falsehood_, i. 119; i. 159 Lest, _list_, i. 247; _please_, i. 80 Let, _hindrance_, i. 347, 351; x. 150; _to hinder_, ii. 7, 387; iv. 93; _to refrain_, i. 252 Leteth, _let_ (_imperative_), xii. 286 Leve, _dear_, iii. 208 Lewd, _foolish_, xiii. 442; _ignorant_, i. 35, 36 Lewdness, _ignorance_, i. 270; iv. 121 Lewt, _a lout_, i. 255 Libbard, _leopard_, xiv. 325 Libbards, _leopards_, xiii. 282 Liberal, _licentious_, v. 136 Liberally, _licentiously_, xi. 194 Lie, _urine_, x. 340 Lie at ward, _a fencing term_, viii. 149 Lief, _soon_, i. 20 Lieger, vii. 417; _ledger_, _resident_, xiii. 271 Liever, _sooner_, i. 35 Life-vein, _life's vein_, i. 152 Lift, _a term used in card playing_, x. 186 Lig, _to lie_, xii. 257 Ligg, _lie_, xii. 507 Light, _easy_, i. 25; "by this light," _an oath_, i. 33; x. 298 Light-a-love, vii. 296 Light-bolt, _lightning-bolt_, xi. 312 Lighted, _lightened_, i. 126 Light-fingered, ii. 167 Lightly, _easily_, vii. 304 Lightness, _levity_, ii. 318 Light-skirt, _a woman of light reputation_, ix. 127 Like, _to please_, i. 31, 137; ii. 213; xi. 225, 499; _likely_, i. 88 Likelihood, _likeness_, i. 55; _probability_ xi. 15 Liking, _pleasure_, i. 80, 247, 269; xii. 378 Lilburn, _a term of abuse_, iii. 103 Limber, _pliant_, x. 363 Lim'd, _snared_, v. 80 Lin, _to cease_, ii. 116; viii. 447 Lind, _to lend_, i. 255 Lindabrides, _a strumpet_; _note_, xiv. 478 Lines, _lineages_, xii. 251 Linger, _to prolong_ (?), viii. 440 Linstock, _a stick with a match at the end, used by gunners_, xiv. 141 Lip-clip, _to kiss_, ix. 252 Liripup, _art_, _craft_, iii. 322 List, _pleasure_, i. 24, 29; _please_, i. 79; xi. 487; _pleases_, iv. 15 Lither, _bad_, iii. 250; vii. 418 Livelihood, _liveliness_ (?), x. 185 Lively, _lifelike_, xi. 514 Livery, _to sue_, _to recover property_, ix. 482 Living-giver, _a master_, xi. 465 Loadam (=lodam), _a game at cards_, ix. 101 Loading, _laden_, xiv. 248 Loathful, _hateful_, _distasteful_, i. 111 Loave-ears, _long-ears_, xiv. 321 Lob, _term of contempt_, ii. 221; _fool_, _lout_, iii. 272; viii. 448 Lobbish, _blockish_, iii. 268 Lobcock, _a fool_, iv. 75; _foolish_, ix. 241 Lobcocked, ix. 288 Lob's pound, _a snare_, xv. 32 Lock and hasp, ii. 338 Lode, _leading_, i. 50 Lode star, _leading star_, v. 103 Loggerhead, _a blockhead_, x. 478 Loggerheaded, _blockhead_, vi. 177 Logheaded, _blockhead_, iv. 65 Lombard, _banker_, i. 266 Long, _to belong_, i. 255; _a long time_, i. 149 Long coat, _a nurse_, xi. 464 Long of, _on account of_, ii. 300 Loose, _purge_, xv. 316 Loover, _opening in the roof_, _sky-light_, viii. 320; xi. 105 Lope, _to run_, vi. 70 Lore, _learning_, i. 60; _lost_, i. 413; _to teach_, xii. 241 Lorn, _lost_, i. 271 Losel, _a loose, worthless fellow_, iii. 128, 218; _good for nothing_, viii. 341 Loselled, _losel_, _worthless_ (?), ix. 288 Losopher, _a philosopher_, i. 40 Losophy, _philosophy_, i. 42 Lout, iii. 103 Loud and still, _openly and secretly_, i. 269 Lough, _to low_, xii. 507 Lour, _to look sad_, ii. 290 Louse (to), _to pick of lice_, viii. 69 Louser, _a catcher of lice_, iv. 118 Lousious, _luscious_, iv. 73 Loute, _to bow_, xii. 507 Louted, _treated as a loutish stupid_, iii. 97 Loutishness, _stupidity_, iii. 117 Love-longing, i. 247 Love's dance, i. 156 Loving, _love_, iv. 15 Low, _to allow_, iii. 136 Loy, St, ii. 117 Lozel, _a worthless fellow_, vii. 155 Lub, _love_, iii. 67 Lug, _to pull_, _drag by the ear_, i. 231; ix. 304 Lugs, _the ears_, ix. 215 Luke, _look_, vi. 73 Lull, _to seize by the ear_ (?), ii. 211 Lulling, iv. 120 Lumperdy-clumperdy, iii. 92 Lumpish, _dull_, xii. 212 Lungis, _a lubber_, viii. 53 Lurden, _a term of reproach_, i. 76; _a lout_, ix. 289 Lusk, _sluggard_, ix. 462 Luskish, _slow_, viii. 370 Lust, _to please,_ i. 292; iii. 102; _to desire_, ii. 119 Lusty, _pleasant_, i. 48 Luxur, _a lecher_, x. 8 Lycand, _pleasing_, xii. 254 Lytherly, _bad_, xii. 241 Maculate, _to spot_, _soil_, i. 225 Mad, _to madden_, x. 169 Madding, _mad_, v. 185 Maddle-coddle, _foolish_, vi. 391 Made, "we're made," = _our fortunes are made_, xii. 211 Magnifico, _a grandee_, xi. 453 Maids, _thornbacks_, xii. 113 Mail, _wallet_, vi. 511 Maim'd, _wounded_, v. 13 Maintain, _to encourage_, iii. 155 Maintenance, _servitude_, xi. 468 Make ready, _to dress_, xiii. 489 Make, _mate_, iii. 24 Maked, _matched_, i. 252 Maker, _poet_, ii. 112 Making, _mating_, xi. 144 Malcontent, _discontented_, xiv. 107 Malcontented, _discontented_, x. 162 Malecotoon, _peach_, xii. 236 Malison, _curse_, iii. 181 Malkin, _a term of contempt_, iii. 65 Malvoisin, _Malmsey wine_, i. 24 Manchet, _white bread_, viii. 160 Manhood, _manliness_, xi. 459 Mankin, _manly_, _furious_, ii. 216 Mankind, _manlike,_ vii. 319; _ferocious_, viii. 439 Mankine, _masculine_, iii. 146 Mannerly, _well-behaved_, vii. 162 Man-of-war, _constable_, i. 185 Manship, vii. 417 Mantle-tree, _mantlepiece_, ix. 222 Marchpane, ix. 424; xi. 540; _note_, xii. 235 Mare, _nightmare_, "let pass away the mare," i. 57; "two-legged mare," _the gallows_, iii. 335 Margarites, _pearls_, xii. 475 Margent, _margin_, ix. 169 Marish, _marshy_, x. 161 Marl, _marvel_, x. 504 Marl'd, _marvelled_, xi. 284 Marmoset, _monkey_, xiii. 298; xiv. 285 Marry, _the Virgin Mary_, xi. 461 Marry a God, _marry_, _the Virgin Mary_, vii. 477 Marshal (of the revels), i. 45 Martialist, v. 9; _a soldier_, viii. 440; xiii. 462 Martyrdom, _suffering_, x. 149 Marybone, _marrow-bone_, ii. 79 Masculine, _male_, xi. 452 Maship, _mastership_, i. 367; iii. 65 Massiness, _massiveness_, x. 131 Massy, _massive_, ii. 329; xi. 339 Masterdom, _power_, viii. 250 Mastlin, _mixed metal_, ix. 411 Match, _rival_, ii. 349 Maternal (tongue), _mother_ (_tongue_) i. 7 Matron, _an old crone_, i. 72 Matt, _the mass_, iii. 146 Maugre, _in spite of_, xi. 316; xii. 288 Maukins, _note_, viii. 258 Maumet, _puppet_, x. 167 Mavors, _Mars_, xii. 451 Maw, _term used in card-playing_, ix. 387; x. 539 Mayhap, _perhaps_, i. 66 Maze, _to amaze_, iv. 65 Mazzard, _pate_, xi. 47 Me, _expletive_, x. 280; xi. 102 Meacock, _a milksop_, iv. 118 Meads, _meadows_, vii. 295 Mean, "a mean," i. 9; "the mean season," _meantime_, i. 48; "in a mean," _of a medium size_, _moderate_, i. 62; v. 285, 293 Measure, _moderation_, i. 258 Meaze, _form of a hare_, ix. 44 Meditation, _mediation_, xv. 19 Meed, _reward_, iii. 231 Meet with, _to serve out_, vii. 462; _to be even with_, xiii. 62 Megrim, _megrims_, i. 160; xv. 30 Melancholy, _madness_, i. 84 Melist, _it pleases me_, i. 154 Mell, _to meddle_, iii. 248 Mending, _amendment_, i. 153 Mends, _amends_, v. 299 Merce, _to amerce_, ix. 487 Merchant, _person_, _fellow_, _chap_, i. 69; ii. 255,383; xi. 28; iii. 8; _rogue_, xii. 165 Merchantman, _merchant_, xii. 158 Mercurials, xi. 301 Mere, _pure_, _perfect_, vii. 270 Merely, _quite_, _absolutely_, x. 204 Merk, _to darken_, xii. 507 Meseem, _meseems_, vi. 62 Meseraics, xi. 303 Met, _dreamt_, xii. 242 Metamorphose, _to change_, _transmute_, xi. 488 Mete, _to measure out a reward_, viii. 304; _to measure_, ix. 557; _measured_, x. 37 Metely, _fitly_, _meetly_, i. 48 Meteoroscope, xi. 344 Metheglin, xiii. 32 Methink, _methinks_, i. 9 Mettles, vii. 146 Meve, _to move_, i. 244; iv. 98 Mew'd, _confined_, _restrained_, i. 60 Meyne, _company_, i. 262 Mich, _much_, i. 22 Micher, _a truant_, _flincher_, i. 164; viii. 57; ix. 550; x. 332 Mickle, _great_, _much_, i. 249; iii. 86; viii. 151; xii. 507 Middes, _midst_, i. 16 Middle-earth, i. 250 Midsummer-ale, _note_, xiii. 503 Mightly, _mightily_, i. 248 Milksop, vii. 127 Mincing, ii. 290 Mind, _to intend_, iii. 45 Minion, _favourite_, _darling_, ii. 169; iii. 159; xi. 19; xiv. 100; _servant_, vii. 293 Minionly, _mincingly_, ii. 346 Minish, _to diminish_, i. 141, 417 Minister, _to administer_, xii. 104 Mischief, _misfortune_, i. 23, 234 Mischievous, _unfortunate_, i. 188 Misdeem, _to misjudge_, ii. 119 Miser, _wretched,_ ii. 252; _a wretch_, vii. 62; viii. 343 Miserable, _compassionate_, vi. 360 Mislike, _to dislike,_ i. 386; ii. 345; xi. 530; _to displease_, iv. 35 Miss, _to be wanting to_, i. 90; _to lose,_ i. 215; _to fail,_ ii. 225; iv. 54; _fault_, _sin_, i. 147, 186, 192 Mister, _to serve_, _be needful_, i. 264; _to need_, i. 347 Misterm, vii. 493 Mistress, _note_, xii. 120, 165 Mistrist, _mistrust_, i. 203 Misuse, _to abuse_, _commit adultery_, i. 308 Misusing, _abuse_, i. 193 Mit (=mist?), i. 356 Mo, _more_, i. 7, 246 Mockage, _mockery_, iii. 135 Mocking-stock, vii. 176 Model, _plan_, x. 65 Modesty, _moderation_, x. 475 Moiling, _toiling_, xiii. 7 Moilingest, _most toilsome_, x. 259 Molt, _molten_, x. 335 Moly, _note_, viii. 228 Mome, _a fool_, ii. 315 Moneth, _month_, ii. 179 Monethmayndes, (= month-minds), _monthly remembrances of the departed_, vi. 72 Moneths, _months_, iii. 183 Monition, _admonition_, i. 132; ii. 270 Moon, _frenzy_, x. 50 Moot, _talk_, iv. 258; _to plead_, ix. 180 Mooting, _discussion_, ix. 183 Mooting night, _note_, xii. 276 Moped, _moping_, xv. 521 Mopish, _foolish_, ii. 255 Moppet, _a term of endearment_, viii. 308 Moral, "a moral play," i. 99 More, _greater_, x. 118 Morglay, _note_, xii. 286 Morion, _helmet_, xii. 488 Morn, "to-morn," _to-morrow_, ii. 283 Mort, _a loose woman_, viii. 156 Most, _greatest_, i. 113 Most-part, _ad. mostly_, i. 30 Mot, _may_, i. 256, 257; xv. 418 Mote, _may_, ii. 255; xii. 241 Motion, _movement_, x. 119; _puppet-show_, x. 135; _puppet_, _note_, xiii. 420; xiv. 412 Motley, _a fool_, x. 525 Motte, _witty saying_, xi. 401 Mought, _might_, i. 249; iv. 306 Mounseer, _a Frenchman_, xiv. 32 Mount Saint, _game of cards_, x. 186 Moustachio, xi. 76 Movings, _motions_, i. 11 Mow, _to make grimaces_, 1. 246; _to mock_, viii. 49 Mowing, _making grimaces,_ ii. 211; _mouthing_, x. 493 Mowt, _might_, vi. 72 Much, _very_, i. 379 Muck, _riches_, xiii. 7 Mued, _moulted_, xi. 360 Muliebrity, _womanhood_, v. 345 Mum, _silent_, i. 74; _silence_, iii. 352 Mumchance, _note_, xii. 120 Mummery, _masking_, v. 300 Mun, _must_, iii. 159; vi. 74; xv. 143 Mundungo, _tobacco_, xiv. 291 Murlons, _merlins_ (_hawks_), iv. 70 Murnival, _a term used in card-playing_, xi. 217 Murrain, _plague_, _curse_, xiii. 160; _plaguy_, _very_, xv. 144 Murrainer, _worse_ (?), iii. 221 Murrainly, _much_, _exceedingly_, iii. 213 Murrion, _murrain_, iii. 180 Muscadine (wine), ix. 526 Muskadine, _muscadel_, xi. 491 Muss, _a term of abuse_, ix. 367 Musselden, _muscadine_, iv. 73 Mussers, _hiding-places_, x. 294 Mutin, _mutinous_, iv. 258 Muzzling, iv. 120 Mynock (myn hock), vi. 242 Naked, _without weapons_, xiv. 334; _note_, 511 Nale, "at nale," (=atten _ale_) _at the ale-house_, i. 166; _ale_, vi. 73 Napery, _napkin_, xv. 159 Nat, _not_, iii. 177 Natural, _an idiot_, xi. 453 Naturate, _natural_, i. 11 Naturing, _bringing into birth_, i. 11 Naunt, _aunt_, _whore_, xiii. 161 Nawl, _an awl_, iii. 210 Nay, _denial_, iii. 38 Ne, _nor_, i. 226 Near, _nearer_, ii. 125; iii. 64; xi. 46 Nearhand, _nearly_, iii. 31 Neat, _finely-dressed_, vii. 286 Neck verse, i. 159 Neele, _needle_, iii. 180 Neighbourhood, _neighbourliness_, xii. 67 Nem, _take_, xii. 287 Nempd, _named_, xii. 242 Nessary, _necessary_, i. 253 Nething, _nothing_, vi. 72 New, "a new day," i. 86 New-joint (to), ix. 556 Next, _nearest_, i. 27; ix. 441; _nearest of kin_, x. 196; _the next heir_, x. 31 Nice, i. 116; _foolish_, i. 235; _tender_, _delicate_, ii. 272; _coy_, xi. 531 Nicely, _quietly_, iii. 232 Niches in the wall, _note_, xv. 216 Nick (of time), xii. 390; xv. 47, 60; _a term used in dicing_, ii. 171 Nicking, _using a beer-can with a raised bottom, hence giving short measure_, xii. 334 Nidiot, _idiot_, ii. 303 Nifling, _trifling_, xiv. 317 Niggers (= snigs), _an oath_, xiii. 6, 22 Niggersnoggers, _an oath_, xiii. 5, 10 Niggler, _sporter_, xiv. 313 Nill, _will not_, vi. 475; vii. 108; x. 474 Nim, _to take_, xiv. 350 Nimmer, _thief_, xi. 370 Ningle, _a term of endearment_, xiv. 297 Nipitaty, _note_, viii. 60 Nippitate, _note_, vii. 445 Niset, _a term of endearment_, ii. 22 Niters, _note_, xi. 430 Nitty-napry, xiv. 344 Nod, _noddy_, ii. 130 Noddlehead, x. 328 Noddy, _nobody_, iv. 17 Noiling, _noise_ (?), iii. 230 Noise, _band_, x. 263; _note_, xii. 281 Noisome, _poisonous_, _noxious_, xii. 192 Nol, _pate_, vi. 253 Noly, ii. 171 Norice, _nurse_, xii. 241 Nosthrils, _nostrils_, i. 376 Not, _nought_, i. 321 Notable, _well-known_, i. 69 Note, _mark_, ix. 427 Notes, _signs_, vii. 187 Nother, _nor_, i. 22; _neither_, i. 200, 368 Nothing, _not at all_, i. 7 Noughtiness, _badness_, ii. 317 Noughty, _naughty_, _bad_, ii. 307 Nouns, _zounds_, x. 260 Nowl, _an owl_, ii. 113 Noy, _annoy_, ii. 109 Nuddled, _note_, xiv. 62 Nup, _a fool_, ix. 367 Nupson, _a fool_, ix. 458 Nurslings, ix. 453 Nusled, _nurtured_, in. 44 Obediency, _obedience_, xi. 486 Obeisance, _obedience_, i. 59 Obeying, _obedient to_, xii. 570 Obstination, _obstinacy_, i. 164 Occident, _west_, i. 18 Occupier, _a merchant_, x. 308 Occupy, _cohabit_, xii. 137 Occurents, _occurrences_, xi. 475 Odsnigs, _an oath_, xii. 249 Of, _by_, _concerning_, ii. 274 Officious, _diligent in office_, ii. 339 Oft _among_, _often_, _at intervals_, i. 7 Ointment, _unction_, i. 132 Old, _much_, ix. 381 Oliv'd, _note_, xii 239 Olivet, xiv. 344 On, _of_, i. 59 On-begging, _a-begging_, vi. 399 One, "at one," _friendly_, vi. 57; "in one," _at one_, vi. 148 One's, _some one's_, xi. 443 On's, _of his_, xi. 453 Oon, _one_, xv. 424 Ooze, _mud_, xii. 492 Ope, _open_, x. 116; xiii. 31 Open-arses, _medlars_, xiv. 414 Opinionated, _thought of_, viii. 139 Opportuneful, _opportune_, iv. 374 Opunctly, _opportunely_, xi. 264 Oration, _prayer_, i. 409 Orbicularly, _around_, _circularly_, i. 14. Ordinately, _in order_, ii. 217 Orient, i. 296; _east_, i. 18 Orient pearl, xi. 489 Orison, _vow_, vii. 431; _prayer_, i. 89; x. 121 Other, _or_, i. 409 Otherwhere, _elsewhere_, iii. 266 Outcoming, _a coming out_, i. 255 Outcry, _auction_, xiv. 445 Outgnawn, _gnawed out_, iv. 338 Outher, _either_, i. 202 Outlandish, _foreign_, xiii. 43; v. 262 Outnick, xv. 60 Outraged, _rased_, _scraped out_, i. 293 Outsearch, i. 102 Outsep, _except_, vi. 392 Outvoice, xi. 86 Outward, _outer_, i. 484 Overbarring, viii. 77 Overblown, _blown over_, xi. 74 Overcrow, _to overcome, subdue_, viii. 452 Overlove, vii. 23 Overpeer, ix. 404 Oversayne, _to oversay_, i. 33 Overslip, _to omit_, xi. 490 Over-year, xi. 401 Owe, _own_, i. 202; v. 232; ix. 471; xi. 124 Pacifical, _peacemaking_, xii. 270 Pagend, _pageant_, xv. 423 Paicture, _picture_, vi. 74 Pain, _pains_, i. 7; _to take pains_, iv. 33 Paining, _suffering_, i. 81 Pair, _pack_, vi. 421 Paishe, _passion_, iii. 130 Pall, _robe_, vii. 106 Palliardize, _dirtiness_, viii. 135 Palmer, _the rod_, _a schoolmaster_ (?), ii. 275 Palter, _to mumble_, _speak indistinctly or shufflingly_, iii. 205 Paltry, _rubbish_, viii. 137 Palyes, _palace_, xii. 253 Pander, _panderer_, viii. 148; xi. 520, 546 Panderise, _to act as panderer_, x. 294 Pantable, _pantofle_, _slipper_, iv. 67; vii. 409; xv. 105 Pantler, _the keeper of a pantry_, iv. 491 Parachitoe, xiv. 289 Parages, _rank_, _lineage_, iii. 66 Parator, _apparitor_, ix. 307 Parbreak, _to vomit_, viii. 462 Parcel, _part_, x. 275 Parcels, _parts_, xii. 62 Pardy, } Perde, } _by God_, i. 111, 154; ii. 221 Paril, _peril_, vi. 74 Parley, _to speak_, ix. 477 Parliament (= parament), _apparel_, vi. 312 Parlous, _perilous_, _great_, x. 77 Parlously, _perilously_, xiv. 395 Part, _to share_, i. 243 Partaker, _a sharer_, vii. 255 Parted, _shared_, i. 67 Partiner, _partner_, i. 126 Partlet, _a ruff_, i. 350 Parts, _parties_, iii. 248; _conflicts_, vii. 401 Party, _person_, x. 123 Pash'd, _crushed_, viii. 314 Pass, _to care_, ii. 47; _care_, ii. 171, 301; _to surpass_, i. 408; _exalt_, vii. 352; _to exceed (belief)_, ix. 364; _passage_, xi. 375 Passable (_pun on_), xii. 220 Passage, _game at dice_, i. 266; xi. 431; _note_, xii. 120 Passages, _love-passages_, x. 194; _what has passed between two persons_, xi. 14, 33. Passes, _surpasses_, xiii. 105 Passing measures, _a slow dance_, ix. 408 Passion, _suffering_, i. 274; _a love sonnet_, xi. 327 Passion-a-me, _an oath_, xi. 522 Pastance, _pastime_, i. 23; iii. 88 Patch, _a fool_, iii. 186; iv. 220; x. 493; xi. 140 Patter, _to talk_, i. 181 Paunch, _to stab_, ix. 451 Paunch'd, _wounded in the belly_, v. 26 Paxes, _pax-breads_ (?), iii. 11 Pay, _pleasure_, iv. 71 Paynim, _pagan_, xii. 229 Peach, _to impeach_, _accuse_, i. 157 Peaching, _blabbing_, xv. 29 Peak, _to be peaky_, ii. 212 Peaking, _prying_ (?), vii. 437 Peakish mome, ii. 208 Pearl, _note_, xiv. 424 Pearmains, xii. 328 Pease (a), iv. 224 Peat, _pet_, vii. 475; ix. 369; xiv. 321 Peccant, _sinner_, xiv. 355 Pectorals, xiv. 321 Pee-dee, _note_, xiv. 289 Peel, Pele, _a baker's rod or shovel_, i. 424 Peer, _equal_, i. 26; _to look at_, iv. 353 Peevish, _foolish_, ii. 304 Pelf, _riches_, _wealth_, xi. 466 Pelican, xii. 174 Pelt, _a blow_ (?), ii. 391 Peltingly, _paltry_ (?), viii. 350 Pelts, _shields_, xii. 477 Penitency, _penitence_, xi. 458 Pennyfather, _miser_, vii. 300; xi. 468 Pented, _painted_, vi. 74 Peppercorn, _note_, xii. 280 Peradventure, _hazard_, ix. 17 Percase, _perhaps_, i. 67; ii. 109 Perdue, _a soldier on a forlorn hope_, xii. 235 Perdurable, _everlasting_, i. 64 Perdy, _by God_, i. 43 Perfectness, _perfection_, vii. 302 Perfit, _perfect_, i. 7, 61, 353 Perfitly, _perfectly_, i. 383 Perilsome, _perilous_, viii. 46 Period, _end_, x. 170; xi. 472, 563 Perk, _to perch_, iv. 124 Perpend, iv. 167, 236 Perry, _a squall_, vii. 482 Personable, iii. 32 Personally, _in person_, i. 28 Perspicil, _a telescope_, xi. 311 Persuase, _persuasion_, vii. 376 Perturb, _to disturb_, i. 217 Perturbation, _disturbance_, xi. 86 Pervart, _perverted_, ii. 58 Pervert, _perverted_, i. 200 Pes, _haunch_, iii. 181 Pesle-mesle, _pell-mell_, v. 246 Pestens, _pestilent_, _bad_, iv. 82 Pester, iii. 32 Pestilent, _troublesome_, iii. 11 Pestilently, _badly_, iii. 271 Pestle, _gammon_, _leg_, iv. 82 Petitory, _petitionary_, ix. 341 Pettifogger, _attorney_, vi. 281; ix. 264 Pettifogging, _cheating_, ix. 238 Pettyfogging (groom), _a knavish lawyer_, x. 356 Phalange, _phalanx_, ix. 362 Pheer (= feer), _companion_, iv. 263; xiii. 425 Philosophy (natural), i. 6 Philtres, xiv. 520 Phlegm, "easy phlegm," xv. 199 Phlegmy, xv. 117 Physnomy, _face_, _note_, xiv. 253, 320 Pick, _sharp point_, vii. 318 Pickadel, _part of a doublet_, xi. 17 Picking, _pilfering_, vii. 214 Pickle, _plight_, viii. 364 Pick-thank, xv. 29 Piddling, _petty_, xiii. 143, 152 Piece, _a cup_, i. 178; _a vessel_, ii. 232; _creature_, xiii. 163; _coin_, xiii. 8; _woman_, xiv. 318, 479 Pigeon-holes, _note_, xii. 101, 120 Pight, _placed_, i. 249; ix. 176; _pitched_, i. 403; _determined_, ii. 47 Pigsnie, _a term of endearment_, ii. 151; xiii. 142 Pigsny, _a term of endearment_, iii. 80; ix. 547 Pilfries, _pilferings_, xi. 303 Pill and poll, _to pilfer and to plunder_, x. 501 Pilling and polling, vi. 49 Pin, "a merry pin," i. 45 Pinch, "at a pinch," _in need_, xii. 365 Pinchback, viii. 76 Pinchgut, _miser_, xiv. 291 Pinder, _pinner_, viii. 232 Pinion, _term used in dicing_, ii. 35 Pink, _to gamble (?)_, ii. 35 Pinkany, _a term of endearment_, vii. 324 Pink'd, _peep'd_, xi. 117 Pinken eyes, _small eyes_ (?), xi. 71, 72 Pinky eyne, _small eyes_, vii. 167 Pins, _legs_, i. 181 Pioner, _pioneer_, x. 160 Pishes, _cries of pish_, xii. 298 Pissing, "a pissing while," iii. 224 Pistoles, _coins_, xv. 131 Pistolets, _pistols_, xiv. 164; _coins_, xv. 126 Piteousness, _pity_, x. 189 Pithily, _strongly_, i. 250 Pitiful, _merciful_, _compassionate_, i. 81, 288 Pittance, _a morsel of bread_, ii. 242 Plain, _to complain_, vi. 414 Plaint, _complaint_, vii. 83; x. 189 Planch, _to patch all round_, iii. 176 Plantain, xv. 143 Plantation, _colony_, xi. 467; xv. 334 Plantations, _colonies_, xiii. 274 Plat, _place_, ii. 297; iii. 196 Platform, _note_, xiii. 336 Play fast and loose, xiii. 174 Pleasance, _pleasure_, i. 56 Pleasaunce, _pleasure_, xii. 240 Pleasure, _to give pleasure_, vi. 150; _to humour_, vi. 291; _to please_, viii. 299; x. 134 Plenal, _full_, xiii. 153, 156 Plete, _to plead_, i. 262 Plight, _vow_(?), i. 82; _to pledge_, i. 257; _a pledge_, _promise_, iv. 313; _sort_, _company_, iii. 173 Plotform, _plot_, _platform_, _note_, viii. 423 Pluck, _to drag_, _pull_, i. 72; xiii. 285 Pluck'd, _pulled_, xi. 282 Pluck up heart, iv. 245 Plumb, _plummet_, x. 199 Pocky, xi. 463 Podstick (= pot-stick), _a staff_, ii. 114 Poetise, _to make poetry_, xi. 451 Poignant (sword), _sharp_, ii. 250 Poignet, _a little bodkin_, i. 351 Poinard, _poignard_, ix. 117 Point-device, _with great exactness_, i. 23, 44 Pointed, _appointed_, i. 33 Pointment, _appointment_, i. 33, 37 Points (untrussed), ix. 41 Poise, _weight_, x. 119, 146, 190 Poking-stick, _note_, viii. 161 Politicly, _craftily_, xii. 52 Poll, _to pill_, _rob_, i. 199 Poll'd, _having the hair cut_, iv. 81, 82 Polldennery, _extortion_, ix. 229 Polling, _plunder_, iii. 118 Polt, _lame_, viii. 91 Pomander, _balls of perfume_, ix. 419 Ponderosity, _heaviness_, i. 14 Poopnoddy, _a fool_, ix. 242 Popinjay, _a parrot_, ii. 117 Porkling, _a pig_, viii. 369 Port, _manner_, _bearing_, _behaviour_, _courage_, ii. 248, 335; vii. 293 Portace, } Portass, } Portesse,} _prayer-book_, _breviary_, iii. 24; vii. 464; viii. 393 Portraiture, _painting_, i. 62 Pose, _to question_, vii. 291 Poser, _examiner_, ix. 139 Posnets, _little pots_, xii. 328 Possems, _possets_, xiv. 296 Possess, _to inform_, ix. 483 Possessed, _acquainted_, _informed_, xiii. 144, 175 Possing, _pushing_, iii. 183 Post, _term used in dicing_, ii. 35; _haste_, iv. 18, 19; viii. 399; _to haste_, v. 11; vii. 203; _messenger_, viii. 154; x. 488; "to ride post," ix. 102 Posting, _hastening_, xi. 488 Posts, _supports_ (?), i. 75 Pot (go to), ii. 252; vi. 66; vii. 302 Potgun, _popgun_, iii. 141 Pothecary, _apothecary_, i. 178; i. 346 Potluck, viii. 87 Pottle, _a half-gallon_, xi. 136, 195 Poult-foot, _club-foot_, xiv. 308 Pouped, _deceived_, iii. 194 Powdered, _salted_, viii. 320 Power, _force_, iv. 260 Poynado, _poignard_, xii. 524 Poynant, _sharp_, xii. 286 Practic, _practical_, xi. 98 Practice, _treason_, _plotting_, _plot_, vii. 451; xiv. 128, 149 Præstigiatory, _juggling_, xi. 324 Praise-worth, _praiseworthy_, vii. 73 Prancome, _a trick_, iii. 177 Prank, _trick_, ii. 117, 230; iii. 198; _to adorn_, ix. 231 Pranker, _finer_, ix. 431 Prater, _a chatterer_, ii. 255 Pratty, _pretty_, viii. 23 Praty, _pretty_, i. 71, 165 Preachment, _a declaration_, ix. 307 Preacquainted, xiii. 487 Prease, _crowd_, vii. 53 Prebends, i. 226 Precious thief, ii. 143 Preciousness, xv. 103 Predication, _preaching_, i. 235 Predycacyon, _preaching_, xv. 426 Prefe, _proof_, i. 179 Pregnant, _full of wit_, xii. 111 Pregnant wits, i. 7 Prenticehood, _apprenticeship_, iii. 310 Presence, _company_, i. 35 Presently, _at once_, xi. 82 Presentment, _representation_, xiv. 280, 281 Prest, _ready_, i. 82, 248 Prester-Johnian, xii. 229 Prestly, _readily_, i. 253 Pretence, _intention_, iii. 307 Pretend, _to intend_, vii. 178; ix. 283 Pretended, _intended_, iii. 13 Pretty man, i. 19 Prevent, _to forestall_, _anticipate_, ii. 250; vii. 233; xii. 101; _go before_, xiii. 473 Prey, _prize_, ii. 360 Price, _prize_, _renown_, iii. 28 Prick, _to ride_, iv. 92 Prick-eared cur, i. 87 Prick-eared song, i. 48 Pricked, _dressed_, i. 244 Pricket, _a young buck_, ix. 149 Prickle, _prick_, v. 46; _to prick_, xiv. 318 Pricks (on a gall), i. 14 Prick-shafts, xiii. 39 Prick-song, i. 48; xi. 144 Priesthade, _priesthood_, vi. 72 Prime, _spring_, ix. 231 Primero, _term used in card-playing_, ix. 387 Prims, _pretty lasses_, i. 181 Princock, _a dandy_, ii. 170; iv. 308 Princocks, vii. 442 Princox, _coxcomb_, xi. 126; xii. 524 Prinkox, _a fop_, ii. 260 Prink up, iii. 6 Print, _to impress_, ii. 275 Privity, _secresy_, i. 34 Privy council, _secret council_, i. 157 Proface, _note_, viii. 160 Proine, _to prune_, x. 160 Promise is debt, i. 137 Propagation, _conception_, i. 290 Proper, "a proper wench," i. 26; _well-behaved_, i. 426; _own_, viii. 148 Properties, (of a theatre), xiii. 274 Property, (of a stage), _a scene_ (?), viii. 316 Propriety, _property_, xiv. 364 Prospective, _a view_, vii. 269 Provand, _plain_, _common_, xiv. 385 Prune, _to pick clean_, _trim_, xi. 361 Pucellage, _maidenhead_, i. 77 Pudder, _pother_, _disturbance_, xiv. 444 Pudding-time, iii. 319 Pugging, _pulling_, iv. 120 Puisne, _puny_, x. 25 Puissance, _power_, i. 41 Puissant, _powerful_, xiii. 343 Pullen, _poultry_, iii. 239; _chicken_, ix. 491 Pumps, _dancing-shoes_, xv. 360 Pums, _a term of endearment_, i. 405 Punk, _a prostitute_, xiv. 60 Punks, ix. 471 Punto, _note_, xiv. 284 Purchase, _to obtain, get_, viii. 402; _robbery_, xi. 304; _a prize_, xii. 232; xiii. 406 Purchasing, _getting_, xi. 490 Purfled, _trimmed_, ix. 417 Purgation, _cleansing_, i. 213 Purls, _hem or fringe_, xi. 134 Purple, _a disease_, i. 175 Purporting, iv. 173 Purpose (to), _to the purpose_ Purpur, _purple_, i. 252 Pursy, _fat_, viii. 369 Purvey, _to provide_, i. 25 Putting out, _lending money at interest_, xi. 190 Pye, ii. 22 Pyketh, _picks_, xii. 242 Pyrdewy, i. 156 Quadragesimal, _lenten_, xii. 268 Quail, _to terrify_, vi. 266; _to languish_, vii. 48, 204 Quaintly, _fitly_, xiii. 158 Quapp, _to quake_, xii. 242 Quarled, _curdled_, x. 84 Quarry, xi. 404; _game_, xiv. 379 Quashed, _smashed_, i. 399 Quass, _to quaff_, iii. 327 Quatorzain, viii. 88 Quaver, _to sing_, ii. 117 Quean, _woman_, ii. 346 Queasy, _sickly_, ii. 112; xiii. 45; xiv. 145 Queck, _blow_ (?), ii. 8 Queen's game, ii. 34 Quell, _to kill_, _subdue_, i. 79 Quere, _quire_, i. 194 Quest, _jury_, ii. 176; _inquiry_, xiv. 343 Quick, _living_, _alive_, i. 110; v. 248 Quick brimstone, _gunpowder_, i. 179 Quid, _the what_, x. 363 Quiddits, _quibbles_, v. 363 Quiddle, iv. 81 Quillets, _quibbles_, x. 289 Quirister, _chorister_, vii. 470 Quiristers, _choristers_, xv. 416 Quirk, _trick_, xv. 169 Quirks, _quibbles_, x. 125, 292 Quit, _clear_, _free_, i. 132, 373; _to acquit_, vi. 588 Quite, _to requite_, viii. 175 Quittance (to), x. 200 Quod, _said_, iii. 31 Quod-a, _quoth he_, ii. 81 Quodestow, _saidest thou_, iii. 23 Quoit, "to quoit away" (?), _to quit_, xiv. 208 Quotha, _quoth he_, i. 23 Rabblement, _rabble_, iii. 35 Rabbling, _intriguing_, iv. 143 Raches, _a kind of dog_, ix. 148 Raffraff, _riffraff_, viii. 39 Rage, _fever_, i. 85 Ragman rolles, } Ragman-rolls, } _bulls_, i. 234; xv. 427 Rakehell, ix. 450 Ramp, _a romp_, iii. 95, 215 Rampallion, _rascal_, xi. 197 Rampier, _rampart_, xii. 521 Rampiers, _ramparts_, iv. 309; x. 326 Ramping, _rampant_, i. 399; _romping_, iii. 94 Rampion (wine), i. 24 Randall, _random_, vii. 360 Rank, _row_, ix. 440 Rapt, _ravished_, x. 358 Rascal, _rabble_, ix. 223 Rascal deer, ix. 148 Rase, _race_, _channel_, i. 164; _to erase_, xi. 53 Raspice (wine), i. 24 Rather, _sooner_, i. 364; _earlier_, iii. 117 Ratsbane, _poison for rats_, xiv. 79 Rattled, _rated_, _scolded_, xiii. 112, 138 Raught, _reached_, _gave_, iv. 302; _reft_, vii. 57 Rave, _to talk madly_, iii. 228 Ray, _array_, iii. 137; _to soil_, viii. 87 Rayed, _soiled_, ix. 241 Razed, _rooted out_, iv. 337 Reach, _aim_, vii. 123; _reaching cough_, xi. 43 Reading, _advice_, xi. 14 Rear, _to raise_, xi. 489 Rear-banquets, xiv. 293 Rearward, _rear_, v. 11 Reason, _right_, ii. 118; "I'll do you reason," _I'll pledge you_, xv. 214 Rebato, _an ornament for the neck_, _a kind of ruff_, x. 122 Recede, _withdrawal_, xiv. 312 Rech, _to care_, ii. 290; _care for_, xii. 288 Rechless, _careless_, _reckless_, i. 298; iii. 196 Reck, _to care_, i. 188; vii. 68 Recoil, ii. 368 Reconcilement, _reconciliation_, ix. 52; xii. 275; xiii. 463; xv. 89 Record, _to sing_, v. 51; viii. 154 Recorder, _a flageolet_, iii. 87 Recover, _to cause to recover_, viii. 467 Recoverance, _recovery_, i. 287 Recreance, _recreation_, vi. 32 Recreate, _to refresh_, xi. 511 Recure, _to recover_, i. 369; vii. 107; xii. 172; _recovery_, ix. 52 Rede, _reed_, _counsel_, viii. 405 Reduce, _to bring back_, x. 280; xii. 452 Reed, _to advise_, i. 181; _advice_, ii. 257; vi. 475; vii. 337 Re-edified, _rebuilt_, xii. 200 Reek, _to smoke_, xi. 275 Reels, vii. 303 Refel, _to refute_, viii. 318 Refranes, _proverbs_, xi. 401 Reft, _bereft_, viii. 159 Refuge, _refuse_, vii. 335 Refuse me, _oath_, xiii. 5 Regiment, _rule_, viii. 77; _authority_, xii. 505 Rehearsing, _repeating_, i. 61 Reject, _rejected_, i. 213 Remit, _to condone_, xi. 474 Remorseless, _pitiless_, ix. 504 Ren, _to run_, ii. 253 Renne, _to run_, i. 181, 246, 395; iii. 70 Renowm, _renown_, iv. 338 Rent, i. 199 Rented, _rent_, _distracted_, ix. 133 Repass, _a term used in legerdemain_, x. 306 Reprefe, _reproof_, i. 120 Resolute, vii. 487 Resolution, i. 12 Resolve, _to make one acquainted with the resolution of another_, vii. 45; _to dissolve_, vii. 46 Resolved, _dissolved_, xi. 62 Respective, _respectful_, vii. 396; x. 342 Respire, _to revive_, xi. 67 Respite, _delay_, i. 103, 106 Rest, _stake_, xi. 363 Rested, _arrested_, i. 178 Resty, _restive_, vi. 32 Retchless, _reckless_, ii. 196 Retire, _retirement_, xiv. 312 Retrograde, _recreant_, x. 95 Reuth, _pity_, xii. 286 Reve, _to rive_, ii. 271 Revel, _sport_, _fun_, i. 371 Reven, _to rob_ (?), i. 252 Revengement, _revenge_, vii. 162 Rever, _robber_, viii. 155 Reverent, _reverential_, xi. 143 Revert, _to turn back_, xi. 476 Rew, _row_, i. 262 Rewarding, _a reward_, i. 63 Rewhayre, _require_, vi. 71 Rheuming, _ruminating_ (?), ix. 152 Rib, _wife_, xii. 214 Ribald, _prostitute_, i. 82 Ribble-rabble, _nonsense_, viii. 110 Riches (_singular_), i. 8 Rid, _rode_, v. 343 Ridder, _deliverer_, i. 216 Rig, _strumpet_, iii. 215 Righting, _setting right_, xv. 13; xv. 55 Rightwiseness, _righteousness_, i. 100 Rim, _verge_, _degree_, x. 22 Rine, _rind_, _cane_, i. 246; ix. 244 Riot, _extravagance_, xii. 101 Ria, _branch_ (_of a tree_), i. 252 Rise-again, _a rising again_, i. 286 Roarer, _a bully_, _swaggerer_, xi. 139; xii. 102 Rock, _distaff_, i. 65 Rode, _ridden_, x. 118 Roguery, _wantonness_, xii. 241 Roil, _to roam_, iii. 91 Roister, _roisterer_, iii. 307; viii. 340 Roisters, _roisterers_, iii. 307, 320 Roisting, _roistering_, ii. 300; iii. 348; viii. 360 Romth, _space_, iii. 207 Ront, _runt_, _a term of abuse_ (?), viii. 366 Rood, _cross_, i. 26, 137; ii. 36 Rood-tree, _cross_, i. 253 Roomer, "to cry roomer," _a nautical term_, x. 253 Roper, _ropemaker_, ii. 16 Rosary, _a place where roses grow_, x. 186 Rosy, _blushing_, xi. 306 Rot, _to destroy_, vii. 314 Rotten, _a rat_, iii. 216 Rought (= rout), _to roar_, _snore_, i. 270 Round, _to whisper_, v. 10; ix. 365, 436; _to encircle_, xiii. 184 Rounding, _whispering_, iii. 78 Roundly, _plainly_, xi. 471 Rouse, _to praise_, iii. 59 Rout, _company_, i. 260; _to assemble_, iii. 137 Rowt, _to appear_ (_in arms?_), i. 256 Rub, _a term used by bowlers_, xi. 55 Rubbers, "a rubbers," _a game of whist_, vii. 272 Ruddock, _redbreast_, iv. 72 Rudeness, _fault_, i. 294 Ru'd, _pitied_, xii. 370 Ruffle, _to swagger_, i. 402; _to brandish_, i. 407 Ruffler, _a swaggerer_, i. 395 Ruinate, _to destroy_, _to ruin_, viii. 158, 184; xi. 480; _ruined_, xiv. 103 Rumney (wine), i. 24 Rumple, _to play wantonly_, viii. 389 Runagate, _renegade_, ix. 267 Ruth, _pity_, i. 256; vii. 30; _cruelty_, xiv. 138 Ruthful, _piteous_, v. 127 Rutter, _trooper_, v. 265 Sa, _so_, xii. 507 Sacket, xi. 340 Sacrament, "by God's sacrament," iii. 34 Sacrament (by Gog's), iii. 180 Sacring, _consecrating_, x. 235 Sad, _adj. sober_, _serious_, i. 20; iv. 137 Sadder, _slower_, iii. 132 Sadly, _seriously_, iii. 78; vii. 39 Sadness, _seriousness_, _sobriety of conduct_, i. 187; iii. 124 Safe-conduct, i. 375 Safeguard, _to protect_, ix. 565; x. 212 Sained, _blessed_, i. 261 Saker, _a gun_, xi. 325 Salacious, xiv. 344 Sale, _hall_, i. 243; _shall_, vi. 71 Sallet, _a sort of helmet_, i. 396; _sallad_, i. 397 Same, "in same," _together_, i. 245, 247 Sampler, v. 259 Sanctimonious, _holy_, x. 128 Sandry, _sundry_, vi. 74 Sanguine, _ruddy_, iv. 80 Sanguineous, _ruddy_, i. 54 Sans, _without_, i. 26; xi. 104 Sate, _to satisfy_, xiv. 337 Sauce-box, _an impudent fellow_, x. 509; xi. 536; xv. 68 Saunce-bell, _a bell rung at different parts of the mass-service_, x. 422 Saunt, _term used in card-playing_, ix. 387 Savour, _smell_, i. 20; _to feel_, _experience_, i. 294; _to smack_, xi. 454 Saw, _proverb_, xiii. 8 Sawl, _soul_, vi. 77 Saws, _sayings_, i. 20 Saxes, _note_, xii. 287 Sayn, _to say_, xii. 242 Saysmatic, _schismatic_, vi. 71 Scab, _term of abuse_, xii. 313 Scale, _ladder_, x. 139 Scaledrake, _sheldrake_, xiv. 290 Scamble, _to scramble_, x. 244 Scant, _scarcely_, i. 78 Scape, _to escape_, i. 163 Scaped, _escaped_, i. 41 Scapethrift, viii. 138 Scarbabe, _a scarecrow_, ix. 268 Scath, _harm_, ii. 249 Scathe, _harm_, _to hurt_, _injure_, v. 327; viii. 152; ix. 21; xv. 145 Sciotherical, _belonging to a sundial_, xi. 326 Sconce, _head_, x. 300; xiv. 304 Scot and lot, xii. 251 Scouting (= scutting), _mucking_, _messing_, ix. 154 Scrag, _a scraggy, lean person_, xiv. 164 Screeking, _screeching_, ix. 341 Screw'd, _shrewd_, _supercilious_ (?), xiv. 351 Screwed, _shrewd_, xiv. 282 Scrine, _a desk_, iii. 141 Scrubbed, _scrubby_, _shaggy_, xii. 323 Scud, _to run away_, vii. 321; viii. 292 Se, _seat_, i. 244 Sear, _a term in falconry_, xi. 341 Search, _try_, _prove_, i. 199; xiii. 389 Secretness, _secresy_, i. 85 Sector, _executor_, iii. 105 Secure, _confident_, v. 167; vii. 180 Seducement, _seduction_, xiii. 213 Seech, _to seek_, i. 268; i. 406 Seely, _blessed_, i. 267; _happy_, ix. 216 Seeming, _apparent_, xi. 457 Seeth, _to boil_, ii. 171 Seethe, _to boil_, i. 162; ix. 490; xiii. 25 Segs, _sedyes_, v. 213 Seld, _seldom_, _rare_, iv. 302; x. 86 Seld-seen, _seldom seen_, _rare_, v. 107 Self, _same_, vi. 376; x. 139 Seller (= soler), _a room aloft_, i. 157 Sellinger, _St Leger_, ix. 409 Semblant, _appearance_, _pretence_, iii. 6 Sembling, _dissembling_, ii. 251 Sempiternal, _everlasting_, i. 286 Sempster, xi. 210 Send, _sent_, i. 64 Seneschalship, viii. 139 Sens, _since_, iii. 117 Sensibility, _tender feelings_, _sensitiveness_, xv. 207 Sensible, _sensitive_, xi. 15 Sentence, _sense_, i. 10; _saw_, _saying_, iii. 264 Sent-Loy, _Saint-Loy_, vi. 75 Sepulture, _burial_, ii. 274 Serpently, _serpentlike_, i. 60 Serviceable, _willing to be of service_, ii. 339 Sess, _to assess_, viii. 155 Set-by, _to esteem_, _to prize_, i. 46; iv. 17 Settles, _benches_, xi. 304 Sever, _to separate_, viii. 86 Several, _separate_, xi. 462 Sew, _pottage_, xii. 507 Sewen, _follow_, i. 248 Shagged, _shaggy_, iv. 279 Shag-hair, _shaggy-haired_, xii. 477 Shagrag, _a beggarly fellow_, xii. 132 Shake, _shaken_, iii. 88 Shamble, _bandy_, ix. 488 Shamefac'd, _modest_, xii. 295, 298 Shamefast, _modest_, iii. 68 Shapen, _made_, i. 247 Sharepenny, _a miser_, ix. 228 Shark, _to rob_, xii. 73 Sharp, _to sharpen_, ix. 422 Shase, _she has_, iii. 221 Shaveling, _a monk_, viii. 301 Shaver, ix. 116 She-chirurgeon, xiv. 399 Sheen, _bright_, vii. 58 Sheer, _clear_, viii. 443 Sheerly, _quite_, ix. 120 Shent, _ruined_, ii. 216; _injured_ ii. 279; _punished_ (?), iii. 71 Shewer, _an example_, ii. 388 Shidder, _thither_, xii. 507 Shifts, viii. 138 Shine, _sheen_, _splendour_, vii. 313 Shit, _shut_, i. 183; ii. 153 Shoot-anchor (= sheet-anchor?), iii. 58 Shope, _ordained_, _provided_, i. 163 Short, "at short and long," _the long and the short of it_, i. 25 Shot, _reckoning_, i. 353 Shot-anchor, _sheet-anchor_ (?), i. 366 Shotlog, xi. 141 Show, _to appear_, x. 120 Shrew, _to curse_ i. 33; ii. 223; xv. 426; _a vicious horse_ (?), viii. 425 Shrewd, _bad_, i. 20, 60, 401; iii. 346; viii. 297; xi. 43; xii. 142; _a wicked man_, iii. 241 Shrewdly, _badly_, iii. 131; xiv. 473 Shrieve, _sheriff_, viii. 146; x. 344 Shrive, _to confess_, iii. 219 Shroud, _to shelter_, iv. 308; xi. 484 Shrow, _shrew_, iv. 232; viii. 302 Sib, _akin_, viii. 124 Sibber, ii. 78 Sickerly, _certainly_, i. 259 Side, _wide_, iv. 118 Sieged, _besieged_, x. 324 Siesta, _note_, xv. 22 Sifflements, _whistlings_, ix. 340 Signet (= sonata), iv. 349 Signiorise, v. 185 Signiorising, _lording it_, v. 220 Signiory, _lordship_, v. 216 Sikerly, _surely_, _truly_, iii. 255; xii. 241 Silder, _less often_, vii. 46 Simper, ix. 115 Simplitude, _simplicity_, i. 268 Sin, _since_, i. 175; _since_, xii. 257; _sinner_, x. 61 Sink and cise, _terms used in card-playing_, iii. 346 Sinksanker, _a cardsharper_, viii. 192 Sipers (= Cyprus), _a white stuff of which veils were made_, i. 350 Sir, _a gentleman_, xi. 463 Sisterne, _sisters_, xii. 242 Sistren, _sisters_, i. 226, 227 Sith, _since_, i. 13, 16, 268; iii. 282; x. 115 Sithence, _since_, iv. 336 Sitten, _sat_, xi. 520 Skald, _a term of abuse_, _a scabby or shabby fellow_, iii. 216, 217 Skein, _a knife_, x. 229 Skene, _a dagger_, ix. 337 Skill, _knowledge_, i. 7; _to help_, iii. 178; _to matter_, iii. 311; _matter consequence_, iv. 128 Skiuker, _drawer_, _tapster_, _a pourer out of wine_, viii. 426; x. 252 Skipjack, _a dwarf_, iii. 312; vi. 179 Skirret, x. 126 Slab, _to lap up_, ii. 215 Slack, _late_, ii. 245 Slake, _to assuage_, _to soften_, i. 202; iii. 30 Slampambs, _craft_, iii. 39 Slav'd, _enslaved_, x. 116; xiv. 437 Slaver, _to slobber_, viii. 60; x. 539 Slavering, _slobbering_, vii. 300; x. 499 Sle, _to slay_, i. 257; ii. 251; iii. 147 Sleight, _craft_, _deceit_, i. 82; _prudence_, iii. 27 Sleightly, _slyly_, ii. 243 Sleights (of hand), x. 208 Slick, _sleek_, _soft_, xiv. 58 Slidder, _slippery_, i. 213 Slide, _to go astray_, ii. 100 Slight, _weak_, x. 73 'Slight (= God's light), _an oath_, xi. 125; xiii. 235 Slim, _frail_, _feeble_, i. 288 Slip, _false coin_, x. 197 Slopped, _lapped up_, iii. 193 Slops, _breeches_, x. 345; xi. 67 Slot, _note_, xiv. 520 Slouch, _a lout_, xi. 282 Slouches, _slutches_, _dirty fellows_, i. 416 Slough, _slew_, i. 235 Sloughing hot cockles, ix. 102 Slubber, _to obscure_, iv. 374 Smack, _to taste_, ii. 230 Small, i. 10 Smattering, _talking_, i. 211 Smick-smack, ii. 85 Smit, _smitten_, i. 41 Smock-satyr, _woman-hater_, xiv. 277 Smolder, _to smother_, iii. 243 Smug, _trim_, _nice_, _neat_, iv. 183; ix. 326; x. 473; _to adorn_, xi. 532; _pleasantly_, xii. 327 'Snails, _an oath_, xiii. 7, 37 Sneaksbill, _one who doesn't pay his score_, xii. 258 Sneap'd, _rebuked_, x. 428 Snick-up, ix. 285 Snigs, xii. 257, 259 Snip, _a snap_, x. 346 Snipsnap, iii. 332 Snudge, _a mean fellow_, iv. 314; _a miser_, viii. 83 Snudge-snout, ix. 232 Snuff pepper, _to feel offended_, xiii. 166 Snyb, _to snub_, _reprove_, xii. 240 So, _provided_, i. 63 Soaker, _drinker_, xii. 334 Soap, "soap-ashes," i. 31 Soar, _a young hawk_, xi. 360 Sod, _boiled_, i. 25 Sodden, _boiled_, i. 34 Sodometry, _Sodomy_, ii. 65 Soldan, _sultan_, i. 31 Solf, _to call over the notes of a tune_, i. 71 Solicitancy, _solicitation_, xiv. 291 Somedele, _somewhat_, xii. 241 Sometime among, _sometimes_, _at intervals_, i. 7 Sonde, _message_, xv. 421 Sooth, _true_, i. 20, 66; _to flatter_, _soften_, iii. 59; viii. 455, _to prove_, iv. 258; _truth_, vii. 287; ix. 569; xii. 256 Sophy, _philosophy_, iii. 261 Sops, i. 79 Sorel, _a buck of the third year_, ix. 149 Sort, _set_, _lot_, _company_, i. 405; ii. 309; viii. 118, 291; xiii. 430; _choose_, v. 164; _to turn out_, viii. 411; xiv. 129; _condition_, _rank_, x. 343 Sossing, _sousing_ (?), iii. 183 Sot, _fool_, ii. 378; xi. 525 Sothery, _sweet_, i. 376 Sotting, _getting drunk_, xiii. 437 Sound, _to part, sunder_, i. 244; _swoon_, iii. 107; vii. 323, 383; _true_, x. 49 Souse, _soused fish_, _pickled fish_, i. 418; iii. 356; _a blow_, ii. 126; _to beat_, iii. 218; (a dish of), vi. 291; ix. 240 Souterly, _snobbish_, iii. 321 Span-counter, xiv. 306 Sparkify, _to make a spark (gallant) of_, xv. 47 Sparkles, _sparks_, xii. 514 Speck-and-span new, xi. 334 Spectatrix, xiii. 513 Spectrum, _a looking-glass_, ix. 221 Speculation, _sight_, xii. 563 Speed, _to prosper_, i. 70; _to despatch_, xiv. 176; _success_, i. 135 Spells, x. 207 Spence, _pantry_, i. 35 Spent, _spend_, i. 407 Spere, _to ask_, i. 321 Spettle, iii. 11 Spial, _espial_, vi. 409; _spy_, viii. 274 Spice, _species_, i. 58 Spill, _to destroy_, i. 119, 270; iii. 118 Spindleshanks, _legs_, ii. 336 Spital-house, _hospital_, iii. 193 Spitchcock, xii. 236 Spitchcock'd, xii. 239 Spite, _to anger_, ii. 289 Spittle-house, _hospital_, viii. 70 Splayed, _displayed_, i. 147 Splendent, _resplendent_, ix. 310 Spokes, _saws_, _sayings_, vii. 300 Spongeous, _spongy_, ix. 422 Spot, _to defame_, x. 155 Spousail, _marriage_, xii. 241 Spousal, viii. 117 Spreet, _spirit_, iii. 177 Sprent, _sprinkled_, i. 425; vii. 83; ix. 267 Spright, _spirit_, vii. 474 Spring, _dance_, viii. 348 Springal, _a young fellow_, _youth_, ix. 271; x. 366; xiii. 159 Springe, _a trap_, _snare_, xi. 69 Springed, _ensnared_, xiii. 47 Springes, _traps_, xiv. 352 Sprite, _spirit_, iii. 49 Spriteful, _sprightly_, xi. 126 Sprites, _spirits_, i. 46 Spruce, _finely dressed_, vii. 286 Spun, _to burst out_, ii. 273 Spurt, ii. 291 Spyal, _spy_, viii. 397 Squall, _a squalid thing_, ii. 387; _a little insignificant fellow_, vi. 199, 200; _one who squalls_, xiv. 102 Squalms, i. 68 Square, _to adjust_, xi. 564 Squich, _to skip_, ii. 387 Squich'd, _winced_, v. 343 Squirrility, _scurrility_, iv. 62 Squitter-book, viii. 74 Stab (? slab), _to eat up_, ii. 215 Stacker, _to stagger_, i. 270 Stager (= an old stager), _not a newcomer_, xv. 19 Stale, _stole_, i. 171 Stales, _baits_, _allurements_, vii. 137; viii. 260 Stall, _stole_, i. 160; _to forestall_, xii. 45 Stalworthy, _brave_, i. 251 Stamel, _a kind of fine worsted_, ix. 164 Stammer, _to stop_, i. 250 Stand in paint, xi. 133 Standish, xii. 270 Stang, _did sting,_ i. 363; _stung_, v. 348 Staniel, _coward_, _note_, xiv. 284 Stanielry, _weakness_, xiv. 357 Star Chamber, _to bring before the Star Chamber_, x. 378 Star-cross'd, x. 182 Stark, _great_, i. 65; _strong_, ii. 33; _quite_, iii. 69 Starken, _stark_, v. 403 Starker, _greater_, i. 68 Start, _started_, i. 49 States, _note_, xiv. 470 Statist, _note_, xiii. 421 Stead, "in the stead of," i. 30 Steely, _like steel_, xiv. 240 Steep-fall (hill), _precipitous_, vii. 210, 223 Stellified, _made a star_, xii. 114 Stench, _staunch_, xiv. 329 Stere, _to stir_, _move_ i. 293 Stern, _tail_, xiv. 365 Sterve, _to die_, vi. 51 Stick, _to hesitate_, iii. 285; xiv. 241 Stickled, _acted the umpire_, xii. 275 Stickler, _umpire_, xii. 121 Sticklers, _umpires_, xii. 450 Stigmatic, _branded,_ viii. 300 Stilling, _distilling_, iv. 236 Stinkard, _a stinking fellow_, x. 339; xiv. 145 Stint, _stop_, iv. 268; vii. 46 Stinted, _stopped_, x. 56 Stirrups, _fetters_, i. 184 Stir stumps, xv. 41 Stitch (in side), xv. 182 Stitchel, _a term of abuse_, xiv. 357 Stock, rapier, ix. 119 Stomach, _bravery_, _pluck_, iii. 138; _indignation_, viii. 324 Stomach'd, _disliked_, _resented_, iii. 125 Stone priest, viii. 461 Stoon, _stone_, xv. 423 Stoop, _post_, vii. 66; xi. 364, 400 Stound, _interval, time_, i. 183; ii. 213; iii. 117; _a blow_, vii. 64 Stout, _brave_, iii. 137 Stoutly, _bravely_, ii. 359 Stra, _straw_, i. 255 Straight, _straightways_, xi. 488 Strained, _distressed_, xiii. 9 Strait, _strict_, i. 109 Straitest, _strictest_, x. 188 Straitly, _strictly_, i. 73 Strakegrouud, _struck_, _foundered_, i. 163 Straking, _stretching_, i. 88 Strands, i. 243 Strange, "to make strange," _to be shy_, i. 83; _shy_, _coy_, xiii. 61 Strawed, _strewed_, iv. 120 Streck, vi. 31 Strene, _strain_ (_note is wrong_), i. 55 Stricken, _struck_, iv. 218 Strike up, _to play_, i. 74 Stroke, _struck_, i. 49 Stroken, _struck_, i. 407; iv. 53; vi. 200 Strow, _scattered_, xiv. 311 Studious, _musing_, _thoughtful_, i. 88 Studs, _mares_, xiv. 342 Stung, _bitten_, i. 202 Stutter, _stutterer_, iv. 137 Sublime, _sublimate_, i. 366 Submiss, _submissive_, iv. 256 Subordination, _gradation of higher and lower orders_, xiii. 373 Subscribe, _to agree_, xiv. 148 Subsizer, ix. 181 Suburb-garden, _note_, xii. 119 Successive, _successful_, xiv. 325 Suckets, xiv. 337 Sufferance, _suffering_, _endurance_, x. 149; xiii. 300; _permission_, xi. 287 Suffisance, _sufficiency_, ii. 242 Suffrages, _sufferings_, x. 169 Sugarloaf-hat, v. 330 Sullenwood, _southernwood_, xii. 144 Sulpbury, _sulphurous_, xi. 486; xiv. 126 Summersault, xv. 69 Sumner, _summoner_, ix. 397; x. 356; xi. 537; xiii. 88 Supernaculum, viii. 58 Supernal, _above_, i. 396 Supportance, _support_, xiv. 319 Supportation, _support_, i. 6, 201 Suppose, _conjecture_, viii. 423 Suppository, viii. 370 Surcease, _to stop_, iv. 327 Surcloy'd, _surfeited_, v. 190 Surquedry, _pride_, v. 312 Suspect, _suspected_, ii. 167; vii. 56, 377; viii. 427; xi. 73; _suspicion_, i. 57; xi. 108, 490 Sustenance, _support_, xi. 472 Sustentation, _sustenance_, xi. 481 Swabber, _one who swabs_, xii. 219 Swabbers, xv. 216 Swad, _a bumpkin_(?), vi. 256; _fellow_, vi. 380; ix. 109 Swain, _servant_, ii. 247 Swap, _to drink up_, iv. 73 Swash, _swaggerer_, vi. 254 Swath-bands, _rolls of cloth in which infants were swathed or swaddled_, i. 350 Swearing, "of swearing," _a-swearing_, iii. 186 Sweat, "the sweat," _the plague_, iv. 119 Sweeting, _darling_, i. 417; ii. 286; viii. 364; _a sweet apple_, viii. 91; _sweetheart_, x. 551 Swelt, _to swelter_, vi. 291; _die_, xii. 253 Swerd, _sword_, i. 151 Sweven, _dream_, xii. 242 Swill, xii. 232 Swinepox, _measles_, xii. 337 Swinge, _to beat_, iv. 224 Swing'd, _beaten_ (?), iii. 95, 246 Swink, _toil_, iii. 192 Swoons, } Swounds } (= _God's wounds_), _an oath_, vii. 344, 352 Swythe, _quickly_, iii. 182 Taberet, i. 48 Table-book, xi. 345 Tables (to play at), vii. 271 Tacklings, _tackle_, xii. 345 Tacon, vi. 197 Taffata, xi. 113 Taint with, _to accuse of_, xiv. 211 Taker, "the king's taker," i. 24 Taking, _temper_, _condition_, ii. 376; x. 226 Talc (oil of), _note_, xiii. 225 Tale of a tub, ii. 335 Tall, _adj._, _valiant_, _brave_, i. 41; iii. 147; vii. 318; x. 294 Tallies, _note_, xii. 137 Talter, _to hang_, _swing_, i. 428 Tampion, _a plug_, i. 370 Tane, _taken_, i. 255 Tango mongoes, x. 521 Tapester, _a female drawer_ (_of wine_), i. 263 Tapper, _a male drawer_, i. 425 Tappis, _to lie_, xiv. 322 Taratink, xii. 327 Tare, _tore_, i. 148 Tarmagons, _termagants_, xiv. 286 Tarry, _to delay_, i. 14 Tartarian, _a thief_, x. 242 Task, v. 379; _to rate_, _scold_, xi. 225 Tatterdemalion, xii. 128 Tavern-bushes, xii. 130 Taverner, _innkeeper_, i. 23 Tawdry, _towardly_ (?), v. 403 Tawrhalts (= tawed halters?), i. 158 Taym, _time_, vi. 75 Taythes, _tithes_, vi. 71 Te, _to_, vi. 71 Tee-hee, wee-hee! x. 231 Teen, _sorrow, vexation_, vii. 87; _anger_, ix. 123; _grief_, xii. 507 Teg, _a young deer_, ii. 193, 220 Temper, _to mix_, xiii. 107 Templars, xi. 496 Tend, _to go to_, i. 12; _to attend_, ix. 292 Tender, _to regard_, xi. 454 Tene, _to anger_, _annoy_, i. 251 Tensures, _exertions_, x. 380 Tent, _to probe_, iii. 311 Tenting, _tempting_, vi. 74 Tenure, _tenor_, vi. 69 Term, "term of thy life," i. 34 Termagant, _a violent fellow_, x. 322 Testament, _will_, i. 132 Tester, _note_, xii. 125; _bed-head_, xiii. 35 Testern, _a coin_, xi. 210 Tewell, _bore_, _hole_, i. 370 Thacked, _thatched_, ix. 164 Than, _then_, vi. 74 Thankworthy, ii. 112 The, _to thrive, prosper_, i. 257, 259; viii. 163; xv. 418 Thea, _thou_, vi. 74 Theatral, _theatrical_, xiv. 281, 293 Thedom, _success_, i. 261 Then, _than_, xv. 57 There, _where_, i. 132, 249 Thiles, _roofs_ (?), xii. 489 Thilk, _that same_, i. 200; _that_, iv. 74 Thills, _shafts_, xii. 136 Thinks, _things_, ii. 287 Tho, _then_, i. 244; iv. 338 Thone, _the one_, ii. 211 Thorough, _to go through with_, xv. 78 Thother, _the other_, ii. 211, 260 Thratty, _thirty_, vi. 72 Thrist, _thrust_, i. 138; _thirst_, ii. 165 Throes, _pains_, xii. 481 Throst, _starved_, ii. 210 Throughgirt, _pierced through_, v. 164 Thrumming, _threading_ (?), xi. 249 Thrusteen, _thirteen_, i. 405 Thwacks, _blows_, iv. 320 Thwart, _cross_, _unlucky_, xi. 42 Thylke, _that same_, xii. 242 Tibiard, _shin_, viii. 139 Tice, _to entice_, i. 115 Tick-tack, ii. 85 Tick (upon), _credit_, xv. 336 Tickle, _ticklish_, v. 82; _unsteady_, _uncertain_, v. 194; v ii. 128; xii. 241 Tickle our catastrophe, x. 225 Tiddle, _to pet_, _spoil_, ii. 173, 174 Tide, _time_, i. 12, 249 Tidlings, _pets_, ii. 164 Tie-dog, _bandog_, viii. 261 Till soon farewell, _à bientôt_, xi. 577 Timpany, viii. 370 Tink, _to tinker_, i. 261 Tire, _attire_, ii. 377; _to prey on_, v. 248; viii. 278 Tires, _attires_, xi. 201 Tirl, i. 20 Tisty-toisty, iii. 332 Tite, _soon_, _directly_, iii. 182 Tithing, _tidings_, i. 151 Titivile, iii. 58 Tittifills, _knaves_, i. 424 Tittle-tattles, viii. 418 Titubate, _to stumble_, viii. 139 To, _compared with_, ix. 154; _in addition to_, xiii. 234 Toast (in wine), i. 79 Tobacco man, xi. 127 To friend, "for a friend," xv. 14 Toiled, _wearied_, x. 208 Tollage, _toll_, xii. 111 Tomboy, iii. 94 Tone, _the one_, vii. 378 Tongue-wralling, _tongue-jangling_, iv. 120 Toohing, _blowing of a horn_, ii. 195 Too-too, _very much_, _very_, i. 423; vi. 68, 236; xi. 32; xi. 119 To pose, _to puzzle_, xv. 59 Topple, _to wrestle_ (?), ii. 210 To-rent, _rend asunder_, i. 408 Torpedo, _electric eel_, xii. 426 Torrup, _to interrupt_, iv. 74 Tossing, _sharp_ (?), iii. 207 Toteth, _peeps_, i. 42 Tother, _second_, vii. 292; _the other_, vii. 371 To-torn, _torn to pieces_, i. 424 Totter, _to swing_ (_on the gallows_), i. 158; xi. 274 Touch, "to flee touch," i. 156; _feeling_, x. 117; _trick (?)_, i. 262, 429; _touchstone_, iii. 89 Tourney, _tournament_, i. 74 Touse, _to trouble, tease_, iv. 323; _to pull_, _drag_, ix. 215 Towardly, _good_, xii. 120 Towards, _about to come_, _coming_, _future_, vii. 473; xi. 522 To-yere, _this year_, iv. 118 Trace, "to lead a trace," i. 47 Train, _to allure_, xiv. 116 Traitress, i. 83 Tralilly, _term of endearment_, ix. 326 Tralucent, _clear_, ix. 232; xii. 290 Translate, _translated_, i. 7 Transmue, _to change_, xii. 308 Transmued, _transformed_, xii. 242 Transportment, _transport_, xv. 70, 93, 103 Trans-shape, _transform_, xiv. 320 Trattling, _talkative_, ii. 211 Travail, _pain, labour_, viii. 312 Tread, _a path_, i. 293; _business_, ii. 235 Treatment, _entertainment_, xiv. 350 Tredging, _trudging_, ii. 126 Trencher-analects, _note_, xii. 269 Trencher-salt, xi. 403 Trentals, _note_, xiv. 170 Treygobet (= Hey-go-bet?), _a game_, ii. 34 Treytrip, _note_, xiii. 238 Triacle, _medicine_, i. 365 Triacles, _medicines_, viii. 46 Trick, _neat, proper_, ii. 233; iii. 92; _to trim_, vii. 254 Tricker, _one who is neat_, iii. 281 Tricksy, _neat_, _trim_, ii. 281 Trick up, _to adorn_, x. 175 Tricotee, xiv. 280 Trill (the bones), ii. 92 Trim, _proper_, _fine_, ii. 346; xiv. 357; _adornment_, xv. 116 Trimly, _neatly_, ii. 344 Trimmer, iii. 251 Trim-tram, ii. 66 Trine, _astronomical term_, xi. 336 Trink'd, _adorned_, xi. 363 Trip, _a tripping_, ii. 253 Triump, _trump_, ii. 34 Trot, _an old woman_, i. 427; iii. 72 Trote, (?), vii. 155 Troth, "of troth," _truly_, iv. 16 Trothing, _belief_, _troth_, vi. 73 Trothless, _truthless_, vii. 137; viii. 119 Troth-plight, _pledged_, viii. 109, 111 Troublous, _troublesome_, i. 287 Trouchman, _interpreter_, vi. 463 Trounce, ii. 221 Trowl the bowl, _troll (pass) the cup_, iii. 180 Truchman, _note_, xiii. 344 Truckers, xiv. 350 Trudge, _to pack off_, _to trot_, iii. 24, 43 Trug, _a wench_, vi. 512 Trull, _loose wench_, i. 44; xiv. 317; _term of endearment_, ii. 290 Trump, _game at cards_, iii. 199; _triumph_, iv. 144, 145; _a trumpet_, xi. 486 Truncheon, _a headless spear_, iv. 328 Trundletail, _note_, xii. 121 Trunk-hose, xii. 238 Trup up, _pack up_, x. 539 Trussed, _packed_, i. 117 Trust, _fidelity_, xi. 540 Truth, "of truth," _of a truth_, i. 67 Tuck, _sword_, xiv. 284 Tucket, _a set of notes on the trumpet_, iv. 380 Tune, _voice_, ii. 284 Turchis, _turquois_, ix. 422 Turmoil, _to disturb_, iv. 149; viii. 360; _to trouble_, x. 139 Tutress, _a female tutor_, vii. 499 Twain, _two_, i. 48 Twatter, _to talk_, _chat_, ix. 270 Twattox, viii. 369 Tway, _two_, ii. 376 Tweche, _touch_, ii. 47 Twichbox, _touchbox_, iv. 67 Twin, _to separate_, i. 244 Twist, _twisted_, i. 158; _fork_, xii. 553 Twitting, _chattering_, xii. 294 Tyrannious, _tyrannical_, iv. 217 Tyre (wine), i. 24 Tyren, _to tear_, xii. 254 Ud's, _God's_, _an oath_, xi. 101; xiv. 289 Ugly, _horrible_, v. 191 Umbrageous, xv. 9 Unaware, "at unaware," _unawares_, ix. 43 Unbaptized, _heathenish_, xii. 287 Unbiassed (bowl), ix. 539 Unbowelled, _disembowelled_, vii. 24 Uncharm, _to take off the spell_, xi. 563 Uncivilise, _to cease to act civilly_, xiii. 78 Unclear, _unshriven_, _impenitent_, x. 46 Uncompanied, _having no fellow or equal_, x. 119 Unconceiving, _thoughtless_, xi. 463 Unconcernedness, _unconcern_, xv. 102 Uncouth, _unknown_, vi. 171; _harsh_, _unkind_, _strange_, xi. 124; xii. 214 Uncreate, _uncreated_, x. 173 Uncuriously, xv. 24 Undecency, _indecency_, xiii. 78 Undelved, _undigged_, v. 118 Underlaid, _soled_ (_of boots_), i. 183 Undermine, _to supplant_, ii. 250 Undeserved, _undeserving_, i. 71 Undo, _to ruin_, i. 75 Undoing, _ruin_, xi. 478 Unfallibly, _infallibly_, viii. 66 Unfoil'd, _untroubled_, _unvanquished_, iv. 330 Ungotten, i. 59 Unhappy, _unlucky_, _unfortunate_, ix. 566; xiv. 303 Unhappily, _wickedly_, xiv. 243 Unhelm, _to take off the helmet_, iv. 333 Uning, _uniting_, i. 302 Unkind, _ungrateful_, i. 100 Unlaced, ix. 180 Unladified, _having lost the position of a lady_, xi. 79 Unmaiden'd, _deflowerd_, xiv. 224 Unmannerly, _wanting in courtesy_, xi. 516 Unneath, _scarcely_, _with difficulty_, xii. 507 Unneth, _scarcely_, i. 7; iii. 117 Unperfect, _imperfect_, ix. 432 Unperfit, _imperfect_, ii. 329 Unplume, _to take off the plume or crest_, x. 134 Unquietness, _disease_, i. 311 Unready, "to make unready," _to undress_, xiii. 79 Unrest, _disquietness_, i. 56; _disquiet_, v. 97 Unrestful, _unquiet_, vii. 389 Unrevocable, _irrevocable_, x. 154 Unroosted, _uprisen_, _out of bed_, xi. 281 Unseized, _unloosed_, xv. 210 Unshamefacedness, _immodesty_, i. 60 Unshamefast, _shameless_, _immodest_, ii. 270; vi. 161 Unsufferable, _intollerable_, x. 194 Unthrift, _extravagant_, _lavish_, viii. 26; xi. 274; _an extravagant person_, viii. 29; _a rogue_, x. 183 Unthriftiness, _folly_, i. 91 Until, _unto_, i. 269 Untractable, _unyielding_, ii. 203 Untrimmed, _dishevelled_, vii. 87 Untruss, xi. 471 Unuseful, _useless_, xiii. 396 Unwenned (=unwemmed), _pure_, xii. 241 Unwieldy, _without control_, iv. 266 Unwitting (of), _ignorant of_, xi. 31 Unwitty, _unwise_, viii. 336 Unwreaken, _unrevenged_, vii. 86 Upbraid, _a reproach_, vii. 192 Upbringing, _nurture_, i. 91 Upbrought, _nurtured_, i. 92 Upholster, _an upholsterer_, xi. 247 Upland, _the uplands_, i. 262 Uplandish, _foreigner_, vi. 221 Upsey, _note_, xiv. 470 Up-trained, _trained up_, _brought up_, iv. 209 Urchen, _hedgehog_, ix. 382 Urchin, _child_, _term of endearment_, i. 72 Ure, _use, practice_, i. 378; _to practise_, i. 153; _interest_, xiv. 314 Utter, _outside_, i. 260 Vacabone, _vagabond_, iv. 63 Vade, _to go_, i. 424; vii. 38; _to fade_, _go away_, vi. 557 Vail, _to doff_, ix. 371; _to lower_, xi. 55 Vailing, _bending_, xiv. 105 Vain, _fain_, iv. 79 Vair, _fair_, viii. 339 Valiancy, _valour_, _bravery_, v. 37; viii. 322 Valter, _to falter_, iv. 219, 220 Valuation, _value_, iii. 264 Vantage, _advantage_, iii. 35 Vara, _very_, vi. 76 Vardingale, _farthingale_, vi. 434 Vast, _fast_, iii. 182; iv. 218 Vat, _fat_, iv. 220 Vatten, _to fatten_, vi. 177 Vaulting-house, _a brothel_, vii. 436 Vaut, _fault_, iii. 313 Vay, _faith_, viii. 364 Vear, _fear_, viii. 339, 362 Veget, _lively_, xii. 293 Venereous, _unchaste_, xiv. 191 Veneys, _note_, xiii. 169 Vengeance, _terribly_, _very_, i. 405; iv. 64 Venom, _venomous_, i. 297 Venter, _to venture_, i. 121: iv. 57 Verament, _truly_, i. 421; ii. 110 Verdit, _verdict_, ii. 177 Verity, _truth_, iii. 319 Vetch, _note_, xii. 132 Via, _away!_ x. 217 Viand, _sing_, i. 21 Vild, _vile_, v. 85; vii. 296 Vill, _to fill_, viii. 338 Vilthy, _filthy_, iii. 176 Vired, _fired_, viii. 338 Virginal jacks, x. 346 Virtually, _powerfully_, xiv. 311 Visitants, _visitors_, xv. 61 Visitation, _visit_, xi. 13; _plague_, xv. 327 Visnomy, x. 323 Vizarded, _concealed_, xiv. 256 Vlat, _flat_, viii. 344 Vocation, _trade_, xv. 132 Voider, _avoider_, i. 125; _a basket for clearing the table_, xii. 112 Voiding knife, _note_, ix. 447 Voiding of, _avoiding of_, i. 34 Vool, _a fool_, iv. 219 Voolish, _foolish_, iv. 219 Vor, _for_, viii. 338 Vorbod (of God), _prohibition_, "God forbid," iv. 219 Vorty, _forty_, viii. 338 Vound, _found_, iv. 219 Vox, _fox_, iv. 75 Vriend, _friend_, iii. 313 Vull, _full_, viii. 344 Wade, _to go_, i. 67 Waesheal, _note_, xii. 285 Wage, _hire_, i. 247 Wage-pasty, _a term of abuse_, ii. 141 Wain-man, _waggoner_, v. 206 Wait, _to watch_, _be on guard_, i. 248 Waking, _watchful_, xi. 528 Walter, _to feel sick_, i. 365 Waltering, iv. 313 Wan, _won_, i. 385; _did win_, xi. 472 Wanderers, _planets_, xi. 302 Wane, _waning_, xv. 46 Wanion, _curse_, vi. 196; xiii. 158 Wannion, _curse_, iv. 121 Want, _to do without_, v. 350 Ward, _award_, vi. 166; "lie at ward," _a term in fencing_, viii. 149 Wards, _spies_, xiii. 183 Ware, _be aware_, i. 169: x. 8 Wark, _work_, i. 202; ii. 195; _to work_, i. 253 Warks, _works_, i. 7 Warling, _a slave_, x. 303 Warrantise, _warranty_, _guarantee_, iii. 139; vii. 126; _to warrant_, viii. 44, 301 Washen, _washed_, ii. 122 Washical, _what-do-you-call-it_, iii. 243 Wassail, _note_, xi. 487 Waste-good, _a spendthrift_, xii. 102 Watching-candle, xi. 352 Waterstairs, x. 124 Wawd, _would_, vi. 71 Wawl, _to make a noise like cats_, ix. 211 Wealth, _welfare_, _prosperity_, i. 73; iii. 122 Weam, _belly_, x. 366 Weapon'd, _armed_, vii. 417 Wearied, _worried_, ix. 325 Weary, _aware_, vi. 547 Weasand, _windpipe_, iii. 230 Wed, _a pledge_, i. 165; "to wed" _for a pledge_, i. 147; _wedded_, viii. 109 Weed, _garment_, v. 330 Weet, _to learn_, _know_, iii. 204 Weete, _know_, xii. 507 Weigh, _to care_, iii. 49 Welde, _wielder_, _ruler_, i. 268 Welding, _to carry_, v. 27 Wele, _well_, xii. 253 Welkin, _sky_, v. 274; xii. 507 Wellaway, _well-a-day!_ i. 173 Well-a-year, _cf. well-a-day_, vii. 397 Well-left, _having a rich inheritance_, xi. 514 Wend, _to go_, vii. 36; x. 226; _goes_, xii. 241 Wenest, _weenest_, i. 119 Went, _weened_, i. 119; _equipped_, _well-begone_ (?), i. 244 Werme, _warm_, xii. 311 Wete, _to know_, i. 119, 262 Wex, _waxed_, ix. 355 Whadragesima, _quadragesima_, vi. 74 Whaiet, _quiet_, vi. 76 What d'ye lack, _a term of abuse_, xi. 152 What is he for, x. 355 What-not, _a term of abuse_, ix. 78 Whatsomever, _whatsoever_, i. 427 Wher, _whether_, xiii. 47, 511 Whiffler, _a tobacco smoker, hence a trifling fellow_, x. 303; xiv. 360 While, _until_, vi. 65 Whiles, _whilst_, xii. 299; "the whilst," i. 65 Whimling, _a weak person_, viii. 231 Whin-yard, _a sword_, x. 363 Whips-talk, _a whipstock_, v. 95 Whipstock, xi. 384 Whist, _be silent_, ix. 432 Whit, _aught_, i. 428 White son, iii. 329; _boy_, _darling_, vii. 325 White, _centre of target_, xii. 455; xiv. 144 White-liver'd, _coward_, xiv. 284 Whittle, _a dagger_, i. 168 Whore, _to act as a procurer or panderer_, xi. 520 Whot, _hot_, vii. 47 Whur, _to scold_, iii. 70 Whylk, _which_, xii. 284 Wight, _brave_, _active_, i. 252; viii. 158, 221; xii. 507 Wild, _vague_, _loose_, i. 245 Wildfire, i. 72; xiv. 130 Wildness, _wilderness_, i. 149 Wilful, _voluntary_, i. 200 Will I nill I, viii. 302 Wimble, _nimble_, xii. 507 Wimple, _a veil_, iv. 146 Wimpled, _veiled_, vi. 429 Winch up, xii. 469 Wis, _know_, iv. 183 Wished, _desired_, _recommended_, xi. 449; xiii. 65, 140 Wit, _to know_, i. 102, 202, 223; _opinion_, iii. 7 Witch, _a wizzard_, x. 104 With, _withy_, vii. 176 Withdrawing-room, _the drawing-room_, x. 361 Withouten, _without_, i. 255 Wits, _senses_, i. 12, 130 Wittol, _a cuckold_, xi. 40; _to make a fool of_, xiii. 107 Witty, _wise_, _clever_, ii. 316 Wizard, _wiseacre_, xiv. 357 Wizzel, _windpipe_, xiii. 271 Wocum (= welcome), _welcome_, viii. 362 Woe, _sorry_, i. 347; ix. 565 Woll, _will_, ii. 113 Womankind, _feminine_, xi. 455 Womanshire, _womankind_, ix. 327 Women be the devil's nets, i. 61 Wonder, _wonderfully_, i. 250 Wondernise, _to make wonderful_, vii. 324 Wonderous, _wonderfully_, ii. 180 Wonders, _wondrous_, i. 9 Wondersly, _wondrously_, i. 16 Wonnot, _will not_, vi. 312; xiii. 80 Wonts, _is accustomed_, viii. 343 Wood, _mad_, i. 351; ii. 122 Woodcock, _a simpleton_, ii. 295 Wooden walls, _ships_, xii. 514 Woodman, _forester_, vii. 321 Woot, _know_, iv. 364; _will it_, x. 339; _wilt_, xiii. 29; xiii. 39 Worch, _to work_, i. 274 Worched, _worked_(?), ii. 375 Wordly, _worldly_, ii. 329 Wore (= ore), i. 29, 30 World, "a world", i. 35; ii. 291 Worm, _reptile_, i. 202; _serpent_, x. 117 Wort, _herb_, i. 428 Worth, "of worth," _worthily_, i. 142 Wost, _knowest_, iv. 219 Wot, _know_, i. 23; ii. 115; x. 123 Wottest, _knowest_, i. 264 Wott'st, _knowest_, i. 25 Wounds and hearts, _an oath_, iii. 265 Woundyn, _wrapped_, xv. 419 Wrabbed, _rabid_ (?), i. 379; ii. 211 Wrack, _wreck_, iii. 345; xii. 186; _ruin_; viii. 270; _vengeance_, iv. 300, 308 Wrangle, _to discuss_, xi. 271 Wrangling, _peevish_, x. 155 Wreak, v. 386 Wrigaldry-wrag, i. 49 Writhen, _wrinkled_, viii. 89 Wrought, _done_, i. 249 Yall, _to cry_, viii. 242 Yalling, _yelling_, ii. 190 Yate, _gate_, vi. 76; xii. 255 Yawl, _a noise made by the inside_, iii. 193 Yawl and jawl, _to wrangle and jangle_, ix. 284 Yawled, _yelled_, ix. 252 Ycapred, _capered_, xii. 253 Ycleped, _called_, ix. 176; xii. 241; xiii. 163 Yclept, _called_, xiii. 12 Yclipped, _called_, x. 315 Year of the Lord, _date of the year, a.d._, xiv. 391 Yearthly, _earthly_, i. 55 Yeasty, _frothy_, vii. 300 Yede, _went_; i. 179; iii. 227; _walk_, xii. 507 Yeft, _gift_, xii. 288 Yeke, _eke_, xii. 242 Yell, _to resound_, ix. 279 Yellows, _jaundice_, x. 259 Yeoman of the collar, _prisoner in chains_, i. 158 Yerk, _to jerk_, iv. 74 Yert-point, xiv. 306 Yesternight, i. 34 Yfeel, _to feel_, xii. 253 Yferre, _afar_, xii. 311 Yfound, _found_, i. 252 Yfrounced, _adorned_, xii. 311 Ying, _young_, i. 245 Ylaft, _left_, xii. 240 Ylike, _like_, xii. 241 Yon, _yonder_, xi. 113 Yond, _yonder_, iii. 78 Yore, _of yore_, i. 262 Your, _yours_, i. 374 Yoush, _you shall_, iii. 187 Y-proved, _true_, i. 250 Yreken, _raked_, xii. 240 Ystept, _advanced_, xii. 241 Zacks, _sacks_, iii. 313 Zay, _say_, iv. 219 Zee, _see_, iii. 313 Zell, _to sell_, iv. 219 Zembletee, _appearance_, iii. 82 Zennight, _a week_, iv. 219 Zest, _sayest_, viii. 339 Zet, _set_, viii. 347 Zhrode, _shrewd_, iv. 219 Zold, _sold_, iii. 313 Zome, _some_, iv. 219 Zon, _son_, viii. 338 Zoons, _zounds_, xi. 65 Zow, _sow_, viii. 347 Zuch, _such_, iv. 221 Zure, _sure_, viii. 344 Zwap, _swap_, _blow_, iv. 222 A SELECT COLLECTION OF OLD ENGLISH PLAYS. CONTENTS. +Vol. I.+ Interlude of the Four Elements. The Tragic-Comedy of Calisto and Melibæa. Everyman: A Moral Play. Hickscorner. The Pardoner and the Friar. The World and the Child. God's Promises. The Four P.P. A New Interlude, called Thersites. +Vol. II.+ Interlude of Youth. Lusty Juventus. Jack Juggler. Nice Wanton. History of Jacob and Esau. Disobedient Child. Marriage of Wit and Science. +Vol. III.+ New Custom. Ralph Roister Doister. Gammer Gurton's Needle. The Trial of Treasure. Like Will to Like. +Vol. IV.+ Damon and Pithias. Appius and Virginia. Cambyses. The Misfortunes of Arthur. Jeronimo. +Vol. V.+ The Spanish Tragedy. Cornelia. Soliman and Perseda. Life and Death of Jack Straw. +Vol. VI.+ The Conflict of Conscience. Rare Triumphs of Love and Fortune. The Three Ladies of London. Three Lords and Three Ladies of London. A Knack to Know a Knave. +Vol. VII.+ Tancred and Gismunda. Wounds of Civil War. Mucedorus. The Two Angry Women of Abington. Look about you. +VOL. VIII.+ Summer's Last Will and Testament. Downfall of Robert, Earl of Huntingdon. Death of Robert, Earl of Huntingdon. Contention between Liberality and Prodigality. Grim the Collier of Croydon. +Vol. IX.+ How to Choose a Good Wife from a Bad. The Return from Parnassus. Wily Beguiled. Lingua. Miseries of Enforced Marriage. +Vol. X.+ The Revenger's Tragedy. The Dumb Knight. The Merry Devil of Edmonton. Ram-Alley. The Second Maiden's Tragedy. Englishmen for My Money. +Vol. XI.+ A Woman is a Weathercock. Amends for Ladies. Green's Tu Quoque. Albumazar. The Hog hath Lost his Pearl. The Heir. +Vol. XII.+ The Old Couple. A Woman Never Vexed. The Ordinary. The London Chanticleers. The Shepherd's Holiday. The True Trojans. The Lost Lady. +Vol. XIII.+ A Match at Midnight. The City Nightcap. The City Match. The Queen of Arragon. The Antiquary. +VOL. XIV.+ The Rebellion. Lust's Dominion; or, The Lascivious Queen. Andromana. Lady Alimony. The Parson's Wedding. +VOL. XV.+ Elvira; or, The Worst not always True. The Marriage Night. The Adventures of Five Hours. All Mistaken; or, The Mad Couple. Historia Histrionica. +Index and Glossary.+ Transcriber's Notes: Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. Enclosed italics markup in _underscores_. Enclosed unitalicized small capital markup in +plus signs+. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Select Collection of Old English Plays (Vol. 15 of 15), by Robert Dodsley *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 49180 ***

A Select Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 15

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Bewick's Select Fables of Æsop and others. - In three parts. 1. Fables extracted from Dodsley's. 2. Fables with reflections in prose and verse. 3. Fables in verse.

Original Plays, Second Series

Original Plays [First Series]

Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 6

Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 5

Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 4

About the Author

Dodsley, Robert