Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, Vol. 04 of 10

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Hylas.

Hyl. I have dog'd his Sister, sure 'twas she,
And I hope she will come back again this night too;
Sam I have lost of purpose; now if I can
With all the art I have, as she comes back,
But win a parley for my broken Pate,
Off goes her maiden-head, and there's vindicta.
They stir about the house, I'll stand at distance. [Exit.

Enter Mary and Dorothy, and then Thomas and Maid.

Dor. Is he come in?

Mary. Speak softly,
He is, and there he goes.

Thom. Good night, good night, Wench.

[A Bed discovered with a Black-moore in it.

Maid. As softly as you can. [Exit.

Thom. I'll play the mouse, Nan,
How close the little thief lies!

Mary. How he itches!

Dor. What would you give now to be there, and I
At home, Mall?

Mary. Peace for shame.

Thom. In what a figure
The little fool has pull'd it self together!
Anon you will lye straighter;
Ha! there's rare circumstance
Belongs to such a treatise; do ye tumble?
I'll tumble with ye straight, wench: she sleeps soundly,
Full little think'st thou of thy joy that's coming,
The sweet, sweet joy, full little of the kisses,
But those unthought of things come ever happiest.
How soft the Rogue feels! O ye little Villain,
Ye delicate coy Thief, how I shall thrum ye!
Your [']fy away, good servant, as you are a Gentleman.[']

Mary. Prithee leave laughing.

Thom. Out upon ye, Thomas,
What do you mean to do? I'll call the house up.
O God, I am sure ye will not, shall not serve ye,
For up ye go now and ye were my father.

[Ma.] Your courage will be cool'd anon.

Thom. If it do I'll hang for't,
Yet I'le be quartered here first.

Dor. O fierce Villain.

Ma. What would he do indeed, Doll?

Dor. You had best try him.

Tho. I'll kiss thee ere I come to bed, sweet Mary.

Ma. Prithee leave laughing.

Dor. O for gentle Nicholas.

Tho. And view that stormy face that has so thundred me,
A coldness crept over't now? by your leave, candle,
And next door by yours too, so, a pretty, pretty,
Shall I now look upon ye? by this light it moves me.

Ma. Much good may it do you, Sir.

Thom. Holy Saints defend me,
The Devil, Devil, Devil, O the Devil.

Ma. Dor. Ha, ha, ha, ha, the Devil, O the Devil.

Thom. I am abus'd most damnedly, most beastly,
Yet if it be a she-Devil; but the house is up,
And here's no staying longer in this Cassock.
Woman, I here disclaim thee; and in vengeance
I'll marry with that Devil, but I'll vex thee.

Ma. By'r Lady, but you shall not, Sir, I'll watch ye.

Tho. Plague o' your Spanish leather hide: I'll waken ye;
Devil good night: good night, good Devil.

Moor. Oh.

Thom. Roar again, Devil, roar again. [Exit Tho.

Moor. O, O, Sir.

Ma. Open the doors before him; let him vanish:
Now, let him come again, I'll use him kinder.
How now Wench?

Moor. 'Pray lye here your self next, Mistress,
And entertain your sweet-heart.

Ma. What said he to thee?

Moor. I had a soft Bed, and I slept out all
But his kind farewel: ye may bake me now,
For o' my conscience, he has made me Venison.

Ma. Alas poor Kate: I'll give thee a new Petticoat.

Dor. And I a Wastecoat, wench.

Ma. Draw in the Bed, Maids,
And see it made again; put fresh sheets on too,
For Doll and I; come Wench, let's laugh an hour now.
To morrow, early, will we see young Cellide,
They say she has taken a Sanctuary; Love and they
Are thick sown, but come up so full of thistles.

Dor. They must needs, Mall, for 'tis a pricking age grown,
Prithee to bed, for I am monstrous sleepy.

Mary. A match, but art not thou thy Brother?

Dor. I would I were, Wench,
You should hear further.

Ma. Come, no more of that, Doll. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Enter Hylas, and Thomas.

Hyl. I heard the doors clap; now, and't be thy will, wench.
By th' Mass she comes; you are surely met fair Gentlewoman,
I take it, Mistress Doll Sebastians Daughter.

Thom. I take right, Sir; Hylas, are you ferretting?
I'll fit you with a penny-worth presently.

Hyl. How dare you walk so late, sweet, so weak guarded?

Thom. 'Faith Sir, I do no harm, nor none I look for,
Yet I am glad I have met so good a Gentleman,
Against all chances; for though I never knew ye,
Yet I have heard much good spoke of ye.

Hyl. Hark ye,
What if a man should kiss ye?

Thom. That's no harm, Sir;
'Pray God he 'scapes my Beard, there lies the mischief.

Hyl. Her lips are monstrous rugged, but that surely
Is but the sharpness of the weather; hark ye [once] more,
And in your ear, sweet Mistress, for ye are so,
And ever shall be from this hour: I have vow'd it.

Enter Sebastian, and Launcelot.

Seb. Why, that's my daughter, Rogue, dost thou not see her
Kissing that fellow there, there in that corner?

Laun. Kissing?

Seb. Now, now, now they agree o'th' match too.

Thom. Nay then you love me not.

Hyl. By this white hand, Doll.

Thom. I must confess I have long desir'd your sight, Sir.

Laun. Why, there's the Boots still, Sir.

Seb. Hang Boots, Sir,
Why, they'll wear Breeches too.

Thom. Dishonest me?
Not for the World.

Seb. Why, now they kiss again, there
I knew 'twas she, and that her crafty stealing
Out the back way must needs have such a meaning.

Laun. I am at my small wits ends.

Thom. If ye mean honourably.

Laun. Did she ne'r beat ye before, Sir?

Seb. Why dost thou follow me?
Thou Rascal, Slave, hast thou not twice abus'd me?
Hast thou not spoil'd the Boy? by thine own Covenant,
Wouldst thou not now be hang'd?

Laun. I think I would, Sir,
But you are so impatient; does not this shew, Sir,
(I do beseech ye speak, and speak with judgment,
And let the case be equally consider'd)
Far braver in your Daughter? in a Son now,
'Tis nothing, of no mark; every man does it,
But to beget a Daughter, a man maiden,
That reaches at these high exploits, is admirable;
Nay, she goes far beyond him; for when durst he,
But when he was drunk, do any thing to speak of?
This is Sebastian truly.

Seb. Thou sayest right, Launce,
And there's my hand once more.

Thom. Not without Marriage.

Seb. Didst thou hear that?

Laun. I think she spoke of Marriage.

Seb. And he shall marry her, for it seems she likes him,
And their first Boy shall be my heir.

Laun. I, marry,
Now ye go right to work.

Thom. Fye, fie, Sir,
Now I have promis'd ye this night to marry,
Would ye be so intemperate? are ye a Gentleman?

Hyl. I have no maw to marriage, yet this Rascal
Tempts me extreamly: will ye marry presently?

Thom. Get you afore, and stay me at the Chapel,
Close by the Nunnery, there you shall find a night Priest,
Little Sir Hugh, and he can say the Matrimony
Over without Book, for we must have no company,
Nor light, for fear my Father know, which must not yet be;
And then to morrow night.

Hyl. Nothing to night, Sweet?

Thom. No, not a bit, I am sent of business,
About my dowry, Sweet, do not spoil all now,
'Tis of much haste: I can scarce stay the marriage,
Now if you love me, get you gone.

Hyl. You'll follow?

Thom. Within this hour, my sweet Chick.

Hyl. Kiss.

Thom. A Rope kiss ye,
Come, come, I stand o' thorns.

Hyl. Methinks her mouth still
Is monstrous rough, but they have ways to mend it,
Farewel.

Thom. Farewel, I'll fit ye with a wife, Sir.

Seb. Come, follow close, I'll see the end she aims at,
And if he be a handsome fellow, Launcelot,
Fiat, 'tis done, and all my 'state is setled. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter Abbess, Cellide, and Nuns.

Ab. Come to your Mattins Maids; these early hours
My gentle Daughter, will disturb a while
Your fair eyes, nurtur'd in ease.

Cel. No, vertuous Mother,
'Tis for my holy health, to purchase which,
They shall forget the Child of ease, soft slumbers.
O my afflicted heart, how thou art tortur'd!
And Love, how like a Tyrant thou reign'st in me,
Commanding and forbidding at one instant;
Why came I hither, that desire to have
Only all liberty to make me happy?
Why did'st thou bring that young man home, O Valentine,
That vertuous Youth? why didst thou speak his goodness
In such a phrase, as if all tongues, all praises
Were made for him? O fond and ignorant!
Why didst thou foster my affection
Till it grew up to know no other Father,
And then betray it?

Ab. Can ye sing?

Cel. Yes, Mother,
My sorrows only.

Ab. Be gone, and to the Quire then. [Exeunt.

[Musick singing.

SCENE IV.

Enter Michael and Servant, and Francis.

Mich. Hast thou enquir'd him out?

Serv. He's not at home, Sir,
His Sister thinks he's gone to th' Nunnery.

Mich. Most likely; I'll away, an hour hence, Sirrah,
Come you along with this young Gentleman,
Do him all service, and fair office.

Serv. Yes Sir. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Enter Hylas, and Sam.

Sam. Where hast thou been, man?

Hyl. Is there ne'r a shop open?
I'll give thee a pair of Gloves, Sam.

Sam. What's the matter?

Hyl. What dost thou think?

Sam. Thou art not married?

Hyl. By th' mass but I am, all to be married,
I am i'th' order now, Sam.

Sam. To whom prithee?
I thought there was some such trick in't, you stole from me,
But who, for Heavens sake?

Hyl. Ev'n the sweetest woman,
The rarest Woman, Samuel, and the lustiest,
But wondrous honest, honest as the ice, Boy,
Not a bit before hand, for my life, Sirrah,
And of a lusty kindred.

Sam. But who, Hylas?

Hyl. The young Gentleman and I are like to be friends again,
The fates will have it so.

Sam. Who, Monsieur Thomas?

Hyl. All wrongs forgot.

Sam. O now I smell ye, Hylas;
Does he know of it?

Hyl. No there's the trick I owe him;
'Tis done, Boy, we are fast 'faith, my Youth now
Shall know I am aforehand, for his qualities.

Sam. Is there no trick in't?

Hyl. None, but up and ride, Boy:
I have made no Joynture neither, there I have paid him.

Sam. She's a brave wench.

Hyl. She shall be as I'll use her,
And if she anger me, all his abuses
I'll clap upon her Cassock.

Sam. Take heed, Hylas.

Hyl. 'Tis past that, Sam, come, I must meet her presently,
And now shalt see me a most glorious Husband.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

Enter Dorothy, Mary, Valentine.

Dor. In troth, Sir, you never spoke to me.

Val. Can ye forget me?
Did not you promise all your help and cunning
In my behalf, but for one hour to see her,
Did you not swear it? by this hand, no strictness
Nor rule this house holds, shall by me be broken.

Dor. I saw ye not these two days.

Val. Do not wrong me,
I met ye, by my life, just as you entred
This gentle Ladies Lodge, last night, thus suited
About eleven a clock.

Dor. 'Tis true, I was there,
But that I saw or spoke to you.

Mar. I have found it,
Your Brother Thomas, Doll.

Dor. Pray Sir, be satisfi'd,
And wherein I can do you good, command me.
What a mad fool is this! stay here a while, Sir,
Whilst we walk in, and make your peace. [Exit.

Enter Abbess.

Val. I thank ye. [Squeak within.

Ab. Why, what's the matter there among these maids?
Now benedicite, have ye got the breeze there?
Give me my holy sprinkle.

Enter 2 Nuns.

1 Nun. O Madam, there's a strange thing like a Gentlewoman,
Like Mistress Dorothy, I think the fiend
Crept into th' Nunnery we know not which way,
Plays revel rout among us.

Ab. Give me my holy water-pot.

1 Nun. Here, Madam.

Ab. Spirit of earth or air, I do conjure thee, [Squeak within.
Of water or of fire.

1 Nun. Hark Madam, hark.

Ab. Be thou Ghost that cannot rest,
Or a shadow of the blest,
Be thou black, or white, or green,
Be thou heard, or to be seen.

Enter Thomas and Cellide.

2 Nun. It comes, it comes.

Cell. What are ye? speak, speak gently,
And next, what would ye with me?

Tho. Any thing you'l let me.

Cell. You are no Woman certain.

Tho. Nor you no Nun, nor shall not be.

Cell. What make ye here?

Tho. I am a holy Fryer.

Ab. Is this the Spirit?

Tho. Nothing but spirit Aunt.

Ab. Now out upon thee.

Tho. Peace, or I'le conjure too, Aunt.

Ab. Why come you thus?

Tho. That's all one, here's my purpose:
Out with this Nun, she is too handsome for ye,
I'le tell thee, Aunt, and I speak it with tears to thee,
If thou keepst her here, as yet I hope thou art wiser,
Mark but the mischief follows.

Ab. She is a Votress.

Tho. Let her be what she will, she will undo thee,
Let her but one hour out, as I direct ye,
Or have among your Nuns again.

Ab. You have no project
But fair and honest?

Tho. As thine eyes, sweet Abbess.

Ab. I will be rul'd then.

Tho. Thus then and perswade her,
But do not juggle with me, if ye do Aunt.

Ab. I must be there my self.

Tho. Away and fit her.

Ab. Come Daughter, you must now be rul'd, or never.

Cell. I must obey your will.

Ab. That's my good Daughter. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII.

Enter Dorothy, and Mary.

Ma. What a coyle has this fellow kept i'th' Nunnery,
Sure he has run the Abbess out of her wits.

Do. Out of the Nunnery I think, for we can neither see her,
Nor the young Cellide.

Ma. Pray Heavens he be not teasing.

Dor. Nay you may thank your self, 'twas your own structures.

Enter Hylas, and Sam.

Sam. Why there's the Gentlewoman.

Hyl. Mass 'tis she indeed;
How smart the pretty Thief looks! 'morrow Mistress.

Dor. Good morrow to you, Sir.

Sam. How strange she bears it!

Hyl. Maids must do so, at first.

Dor. Would ye ought with us, Gentlemen?

Hyl. Yes marry would I,
A little with your Ladyship.

Dor. Your will, Sir.

Hyl. Doll, I would have ye presently prepare your self
And those things you would have with you,
For my house is ready.

Dor. How, Sir?

Hyl. And this night not to fail, you must come to me,
My friends will all be there too: for Trunks, and those things,
And houshold-stuff, and cloaths you would have carried,
To morrow, or the next day, I'le take order:
Only what mony you have, bring away with ye,
And Jewels.

Dor. Jewels, Sir?

Hyl. I, for adornment,
There's a bed up, to play the game in, Dorothy:
And now come kiss me heartily.

Dor. Who are you?

Hyl. This Lady shall be welcome too.

Ma. To what, Sir?

Hyl. Your neighbour can resolve ye.

Dor. The man's foolish,
Sir, you look soberly: who is this fellow,
And where's his business?

Sam. By Heaven, thou art abus'd still.

Hyl. It may be so: Come, ye may speak now boldly,
There's none but friends, Wench.

Dor. Came ye out of Bedlam?
Alas, 'tis ill, Sir, that ye suffer him
To walk in th' open Air thus: 'twill undo him.
A pretty handsome Gentleman: great pity.

Sam. Let me not live more if thou be'st not cozen'd.

Hyl. Are not you my Wife? did not I marry you last night
At S^t Michaels Chapel?

Dor. Did not I say he was mad?

Hyl. Are not you Mistress Dorothy, Thomas's Sister?

Mar. There he speaks sence, but I'le assure ye, Gentleman,
I think no Wife of yours: at what hour was it?

Hyl. 'S pretious; you'l make me mad; did not the Priest,
Sir Hugh, that you appointed, about twelve a Clock
Tye our hands fast? did not you swear you lov'd me?
Did not I court ye, coming from this Gentlewomans?

Ma. Good Sir, go sleep: for if I credit have,
She was in my arms then, abed.

Sam. I told ye.

Hyl. Be not so confident.

Dor. By th' mass, she must, Sir;
For I'le no Husband here, before I know him:
And so good morrow to ye: Come, let's go seek 'em.

Sam. I told ye what ye had done.

Hyl. Is the Devil stirring?
Well, go with me; for now I will be married. [Exeunt.

SCENE VIII.

Enter Michael, Valentine, and Alice.

Mich. I have brought him back again.

Val. You have done a friendship,
Worthy the love you bear me.

Mich. Would he had so too.

Val. O he's a worthy young man.

Mich. When all's try'd,
I fear you'll change your faith: bring in the Gentleman.

Enter Francis, Servant, Abbess, and Cellide, severally.

Val. My happy Mistress too! now Fortune help me,
And all you Stars that govern chast desires
Shine fair, and lovely.

Ab. But one hour, dear Daughter,
To hear your Guardian, what he can deliver
In Loves defence, and his: and then your pleasure.

Cell. Though much unwilling, you have made me yield,
More for his sake I see: how full of sorrow
Sweet catching sorrow, he appears! O love,
That thou but knew'st to heal, as well as hurt us.

Mich. Be rul'd by me: I see her eye fast on him:
And what ye heard, believe, for 'tis so certain
He neither dar'd, nor must oppose my evidence;
And be you wise, young Lady, and believe too,
This man you love, Sir?

Val. As I love my soul, Sir.

Mich. This man you put into a free possession
Of what his wants could ask: or your self render?

Val. And shall do still.

Mich. Nothing was barr'd his liberty
But this fair Maid; that friendship first was broken,
And you, and she abus'd; next, (to my sorrow
So fair a form should hide so dark intentions)
He hath himself confess'd (my purpose being
Only to stop his journey, by that policy
Of laying Felony to his charge, to fright the Sailers)
Divers abuses done, Thefts often practis'd,
Monyes, and Jewels too, and those no trifles.

Cell. O where have I bestrew'd my faith! in neither!
Let's in for ever now, there is vertue.

Mich. Nay do not wonder at it, he shall say it:
Are ye not guilty thus?

Fran. Yes: O my Fortune!

Mich. To give a proof I speak not enviously,
Look here; do you know these Jewels?

Cell. In, good Mother.

Enter Thomas, Dorothy, and Mary: then Sebastian, and Launcelot.

Val. These Jewels I have known.

Dor. You have made brave sport.

Tho. I'le make more, if I live Wench,
Nay do not look on me; I care not for ye.

Lan. Do you see now plain? that's Mistris Dorothy,
And that's his Mistris.

Seb. Peace, let my joy work easily,
Ha, boy! art there my boy? mine own boy, Tom, boy,
Home Lance, and strike a fresh piece of Wine, the Town's ours.

Val. Sure, I have know[n] these Jewels.

Alice. They are they, certain.

Val. Good Heaven, that they were.

Alice. I'le pawn my life on't,
And this is he; come hither Mistris Dorothy,
And Mistris Mary: who does that face look like;
And view my Brother well?

Dor. In truth like him.

Ma. Upon my troth exceeding like.

Mich. Beshrew me,
But much, and main resemblance, both of face
And lineaments of body: now Heaven grant it.

Ali. My Brother's full of passion, I'le speak to him.
Now, as you are a Gentleman, resolve me,
Where did you get these Jewels?

Fran. Now I'le tell ye,
Because blind fortune yet may make me happy,
Of whom I had 'em I have never heard yet,
But from my infancy, upon this arm
I ever wore 'em.

Ali. 'Tis Francisco, Brother,
By Heaven I ty'd 'em on: a little more, Sir,
A little, little more, what parents have ye?

Fra. None,
That I know yet: the more my stubborn fortune,
But as I heard a Merchant say that bred me,
Who, to my more affliction, dyed a poor man,
When I reach'd eighteen years.

Ali. What said that Merchant?

Fra. He said, an infant, in the Genoway Galleys,
But from what place he never could direct me,
I was taken in a Sea-fight, and from a Mariner,
Out of his manly pity he redeem'd me.
He told me of a Nurse that waited on me,
But she, poor soul, he said was killed.
A Letter too I had enclos'd within me,
To one Castruccio a Venetian Merchant,
To bring me up: the man, when years allow'd me,
And want of friends compell'd, I sought, but found him
Long dead before, and all my hopes gone with him.
The Wars was my retreat then, and my travel
In which I found this Gentlemans free bounty,
For which Heaven recompenc'd him: now ye have all.

Val. And all the worldly bliss that Heaven can send me,
And all my prayers and thanks.

Alice. Down o' your knees, Sir,
For now you have found a Father, and that Father
That will not venture ye again in Galleys.

Mich. 'Tis true, believe her, Sir, and we all joy with ye.

Val. My best friend still: my dearest: now Heaven bless thee,
And make me worthy of this benefit.
Now my best Mistress.

Cel. Now Sir, I come to ye.

Ab. No, no, let's in Wench.

Cell. Not for the world, now, Mother,
And thus, Sir, all my service I pay to you,
And all my love to him.

Val. And may it prosper,
Take her Francisco: now no more young Callidon,
And love her dearly, for thy Father does so.

Fran. May all hate seek me else, and thus I seal it.

Val. Nothing but mirth now, friends.

Enter Hylas and Sam.

Hyl. Nay, I will find him.

Sam. What do all these here?

Tho. You are a trusty Husband,
And a hot lover too.

Hyl. Nay then, good morrow,
Now I perceive the Knavery.

Sam. I still told ye.

Tho. Stay, or I'le make ye stay: come hither, Sister.

Val. Why how now Mistris Thomas?

Tho. Peace a little,
Thou would'st fain have a Wife?

Hyl. Not I, by no means.

Tho. Thou shalt have a wife, and a fruitful wife, for I find, Hylas,
That I shall never be able to bring thee Children.

Seb. A notable brave boy.

Hyl. I am very well, Sir.

Tho. Thou shalt be better, Hylas, thou hast 7 hundred pound a year,
And thou shalt make her 3 hundred joynture.

Hyl. No.

Tho. Thou shalt boy, and shalt bestow
Two hundred pound in Cloaths, look on her,
A delicate lusty wench, she has fifteen hundred,
And feasible: strike hands, or I'le strike first.

Dor. You'l let me like?

Mar. He's a good handsome fellow,
Play not the fool.

Tho. Strike, Brother Hylas, quickly.

Hyl. If you can love me, well.

Dor. If you can please me.

Tho. Try that out soon, I say, my Brother Hylas.

Sam. Take her, and use her well, she's a brave Gentlewoman.

Hyl. You must allow me another Mistriss.

Dor. Then you must allow me another Servant.

Hyl. Well, let's together then, a lusty kindred.

Seb. I'le give thee five hundred pound more for that word.

Ma. Now Sir, for you and I to make the feast full.

Tho. No, not a bit, you are a vertuous Lady,
And love to live in contemplation.

Ma. Come fool, I am friends now.

Tho. The fool shall not ride ye,
There lye my Woman, now my man again,
And now for travel once more.

Seb. I'le barr that first.

Ma. And I next.

Tho. Hold your self contented: for I say I will travel,
And so long I will travel, till I find a Father
That I never knew, and a Wife that I never look'd for,
And a state without expectation,
So rest you merry Gentlemen.

Ma. You shall not,
Upon my faith, I love you now extreamly,
And now I'le kiss ye.

Tho. This will not do it, Mistress.

Ma. Why when we are married, we'l do more.

Seb. There's all Boy,
The keyes of all I have, come, let's be merry,
For now I see thou art right.

Tho. Shall we to Church straight?

Val. Now presently, and there with nuptial
The holy Priest shall make ye happy all.

Tho. Away then, fair afore. [Exeunt.

TO THE
NOBLE HONOURER
OF THE
Dead Author's Works and Memory,
Master CHARLES COTTON.

SIR,

My directing of this piece unto you, renders me obvious to many censures, which I would willingly prevent by declaring mine own and your right thereto. Mine was the fortune to be made the unworthy preserver of it; yours is the worthy opinion you have of the Author and his Poems; neither can it easily be determined, whether your affection to them hath made you (by observing) more able to judge of them, than your ability to judge of them hath made you to affect them, deservedly, not partially. In this presumptuous act of mine, I express my twofold zeal; to him and your noble self, who have built him a more honourable monument in that fair opinion you have of him, than any inscription subject to the wearing of time can be. You will find him in this Poem as active as in others, to many of which, the dull apprehensions of former times gave but slender allowance, from malitious custom more than reason: yet they have since by your candid self and others, been clearly vindicated. You shall oblige by your acceptance of this acknowledgment (which is the best I can render you, mine own weak la[b]ours being too unworthy your judicious perusal) him that is ambitious to be known.

Your most humble Servant,

Richard Brome.