Leon. Timantus.
Tim. Sir.
Leon. This Feather is not large enough.
Tim. Yes faith, 'tis such [a] one as the rest of the young Gallants wear.
Leon. Telamon, does it doe well?
Tela. Sir, it becomes you, or you become it, the rareliest—
Leon. Away, dost think so?
Tela. Think Sir? I know it. Sir, the Princess, is past all hope of life since the Dwarf was put to death.
Leon. Let her be so, I have other matters in hand: but this same Taylor angers me, he has made my doublet so wide: and see, the knave has put no points at my arme.
Tima. Those will be put to quickly Sir, upon any occasion.
Leon. Telamon, have you bid this Dancer come a mornings?
Tela. Yes Sir.
Leon. T[i]mantus, let me see the glass again: look you how careless you are grown, is this tooth well put in?
Tima. Which Sir?
Leon. This Sir.
Tima. It shall be.
Telam. Me thinks that tooth should put him in mind on's years: and Timantus, stands as if (seeing the Duke, in such a youthfull habit) he were looking in's mouth how old he were.
Leon. So, so.
Tela. Will you have your Gown sir?
Leon. My Gown? why, am I sick? bring me my Sword. [Exit Tela.
[Timantus,] Let a couple of the great horses be brought out for us.
Tima. He'll kill himself. Why, will you ride Sir:
Leon. Ride? Dost thou think I cannot ride?
Timan. O yes Sir, I know it: but as I conceive your journey, you wou'd have it private; and then you were better take a Coach.
Leon. These Coaches make me sick: yet 'tis no matter, let it be so.
Enter Telamon with a sword.
Why Telamon, bring me another: what, thinkst thou
I will wear a sword in vain?
A yoak of Fleas ty'd to a hair would have drawn it.
'Tis out sir now, the Scabbard is broke.
am not drest till I feel my sword on.
Telamon, if any of my counsell aske for me,
Say I am gone to take the air.
this vain hold but a week, he will learn to play o'th base
violl and sing to't: He's poetical alreadie;
For I have spide a Sonnet on's making lye by's beds side,
I'll be so unmannerly to read it. [Exit.
Enter Hidaspes, Cleophila, and Hero, Hidaspes in a Bed.
[Hida.] He's dead, he's dead, and I am following.
Cleo. Ask Cupid mercie Madam.
Hida. O my heart.
Cleo. Help!
Hero. Stir her:
Hida. O, O!
Look to her, and I'll pray the while.
And forgive our sins at last,
Then we will be coy no more,
But thy Deity Adore,
Troths at fifteen we will plight,
And will tread a Dance [each] night.
In the fields, or by the Fire,
With the youths that have desire. (How does she yet?)
Bracelets of our Lovers hair,
Which they on our Arms shall twist,
With their Names carv'd on our wrist:
All the money that we owe,
We in Tokens will bestow:
And learn to write, that when 'tis sent,
Onely our Loves know what it meant:
O then pardon what is past,
And forgive our Sins at last. (What, Mends she?)
Shee is dead: Her last is breathed.]
And tell the Duke; And whilst I'll close her eyes.
Thus I shut thy faded light,
And put it in eternall night.
Where is she can boldly say
Though she be as fresh as May:
She shall not by this Corps be laid,
Ere to morrows light doe fade.
Let us all now living be,
Warn'd by thy strict Chastitie;
And marry all fast as we can,
Till then we keep a piece of man,
Wrongfully from them that owe it
Soon may every Maid bestow it. [Exeunt.
Enter Bacha and a Maid.
And the brave old man in't, that you said was the Duke.
Bacha. Cupid, grant he may be taken. Away:
Maid. He is coming up, and looks the swaggeringst, and has such glorious cloaths.
Bac. Let all the house see me sad, and see all handsome.
Enter Leontius, and Timantus, a Jewell and a Ring.
Leon. Nay widow flie not back, we come not now to chide, stand up and bid me welcome.
Bac. To a poor widows house that knows no end of her ill fortune: your Highness is most welcome.
Leon. Come kiss me then, this is but manners widow: Nere fling your head aside, I have more cause of grief than you: my Daughters dead: but what? 'Tis nothing. Is the rough French horse brought to the dore? They say he is a high goer, I shall soon try his mettle.
Tim. He will be Sir, and the gray Barbary, they are fiery both.
Leon. They are the better: Before the gods I am lightsome, very lightsome: How doest thou like me widow?
Bach. As a person in whom all graces are.
Leon. Come, come, ye flatter: I'll clap your cheek for that, and you shall not be angry.
Hast no Musick: Now could I cut three times with ease, and do a cross point, should shame all your gallants.
Bacha. I do believe you, and your self too: Lord what a fine old Zany my Love has made him! 'Is mine, I am sure: Heaven make me thankful for him.
[Leon.] Tell me how old thou art, my pretty sweet heart?
Timantus. Your Grace will not buy her, she may trip Sir?
Bacha. My sorrow showes me elder then I am by many years.
Leon. Thou art so witty I must kiss agen.
Tima. Indeed her Age lyes not in her mouth: nere look it there Sir, she has a better Register, if it be not burnt.
Leon. I will kiss thee, I am a fire Timantus.
Tima. Can you chuse Sir, having such heavenly fire before you?
Leon. Widow, guess why I come, I prethee do.
Bacha. I cannot Sir, unless you be pleas'd to make a mirth out of my rudeness: and that I hope your pity will not let ye, the subject is so Barren: Bite King, Bite, I'll let you play a while.
Leon. Now as I am an honest man, I'll tell thee truely, how many foot did I Jump yesterday Timantus?
Tim. Fourteen of your own, and some three fingers.
Taffata.
Alas good Almanack get thee to Bed, and tell what
weather we shall have to morrow.
And win thee for my self: Nay, look upon me:
I have about me that will do it.
I thank the Gods, I have a little left me to keep me warm,
and honest: if your grace take not that, I seek no more.
thee.
Not my honestie: I am well in being single, good Sir seek
another, I am no meat for money.
This sword shall cut his throat, that dars lay claim
But to a Finger of thee, but to a look, I would
See such a fellow.
This is the father of S. George a foot-back,
Can such dry mumming talk.
Crying to get Aboord.
I'll marry thee if thou desirest that: That is an honest
Course, I am in good earnest, and presently within this hour,
[I] am mad for thee: prethee deny me not,
For as I live I'll pine thee, but I'll have thee.
Go too you Maid, else what the old man falls short of,
there's others can eech out, when you please to call on 'em.
Sir, on my knees I give you hearty thanks, for so much
Honoring your humble Hand-mayd above her birth:
Far more her weak deservings, I dare not trust the Envious
tongues of all that must repine at my unworthy rising.
Beside, you have many fair ones in your Kingdome
Born to such worth: O turn your self about
And make a Noble choice.
Or break up house, and boord here.
Bac. Sir, you may command an unwilling woman to obey ye: but heaven knows—
Leon. No more: these half a dozen kisses, and this Jewell, and every thing I have, and away with me, and clap it up; and have a boy by morning Timantus. let one be sent post for my son again: and for Ismenus, they are scarce twenty miles on their way yet, by that time we'll be married.
Tima. There shall Sir. [Exeunt.
Actus Tertii. Scæna Prima.
Enter Dorialus, Agenor, Nisus.
Nisus.
Is not this a fine marriage?
Agenor. Yes, yes, let it alone.
Dor. I, I, the King may marry whom's list, let's talk of other matters.
Nis. Is the Prince coming home certainly?
Dor. Yes, yes, he was sent post for yesterday, lets make haste we'll see how his new Mother-in-law will entertain him.
Nis. Why well I warrant you: did you not mark how humbly she carried her self to us on her marriage day, acknowledging her own unworthiness, and that she would be our servant.
Dor. But mark what's done.
Nis. Regard not shew.
Age. O God! I knew her when I have been off'red her to be brought to my bed for five [pound]: whether it could have been perform'd or no, I know not.
Nis. Her Daughters a pretty Lady.
Dor. Yes: and having had but mean bringing up, it talks the pretilest and innocentliest, the Queen will be so angry to hear her betray her breeding by her language: but I am perswaded she's well dispos'd.
Agenor. I think better than her Mother.
Nis. Come, we stay too long. [Exeunt.
Enter Leucippus, and Ismenus.
Isme. How now man, strook dead with a tale?
Leu. No, but with a truth.
Isme. Stand [of] your self: can you endure blows, and shrink at words?
Leu. Thou knowst I have told thee all.
Isme. But that all's nothing to make you thus: your Sisters dead.
Leu. That's much, but not the most.
Isme. Why, for the other let her marry and hang, 'tis no purpos'd fault of yours: and if your Father will needs have your cast Whore, you shall shew the duty of a child better in being contented, and bidding much good doe his good old heart with her, than in repining thus at it; let her go: what, there are more wenches man, we'll have another.
What shall I doe? I would my tongue had led me
To any other thing, but blasphemy,
So I had mist commending of this woman,
Whom I must reverence now: she is my Mother,
My sin Ismenus has wrought all this ill:
And I beseech thee, to be warn'd by me,
And doe not lye, if any man should aske thee
But How thou dost, or What a clock 'tis now.
Be sure thou doe not lye, make no excuse
For him that is most near thee: never let
The most officious falsehood scape thy tongue,
For they above (that are intirely truth)
Will make that seed, which thou hast sown
Of lyes, yield miseries a thousand fold
Upon thine head, as they have done on mine.
Enter Timantus.
Tim. Sir, your Highness is welcome home, the Duke and Queen will presently come forth to you.
Leu. I'll wait on them.
Tima. Worthy Ismenus, I pray you, have you sped in your wars?
Isme. This Rogue mocks me. Well Timantus, Pray how have you sped here at [home] at shovelboord?
Tim. Faith reasonable. How many Towns have you taken in this Summer?
Isme. How many Stags have you been at the death of this grass?
Tima. A number: 'Pray how is the Province settled?
Isme. Prethee how does the dun Nag?
Tim. I think you mock me my Lord.
Isme. Mock thee? Yes by my troth doe I: why what wouldst thou have me doe with thee? Art good for any thing else?
Enter Leontius, Bacha, Dorialus, Agenor, Nisus, Telamon.
And if thou see'st me fainting, wring me hard,
For I shall swoon again else.— [Kneels.
Back from the province, by thy Mothers counsell,
Thy good Mother here, who loves thee well:
She would not let me venture all my joy
Amongst my enemies: I thank thee for her,
And none but thee, I took her on thy word.
Some near affairs, but I will drink a Health
To thee anon: Come Telamon, [Ime] grown
Lustier, I thank thee for't, since I marryed;
I can stand now alone, why Telamon,
And never stagger. [Exit Leontius, Telamon.
Hither before you: out alas you scorn me,
And teach me what to doe.
But trust me, here before these Lords,
I am no more but Nurse unto the Duke;
Nor will I breed a faction in the State,
It is too much for me that I am rais'd
Unto his bed, and will remain the servant
Of you that did it.
As shall become me. O dissembling woman!
Whom I must reverence though. Take from thy
Quiver, sure-aim'd Apollo; one of thy swift darts,
Headed with thy consuming golden beams,
And let it melt this body into mist,
That none may find it.
This Room in private for the Prince and me? [Exeunt all but Leu. and Bach.
Yet there is still left in me a spark of woman,
That wishes he [w]ould move it, but he stands,
As if he grew there with his eyes on earth,
Sir, you and I when we were last together
Kept not this distance as we were afraid
Of blasting by our selves.
You may think that I have done you wrong in this strange marriage.
The world had call'd me mad, had I refus'd
The King: nor layd I any train to catch him,
It was your own Oaths did it.
Would to Heaven, if it had so been pleas'd, you had
Refus'd him, though I had gratifi'd that courtesie
With having you my self: But since 'tis thus,
I doe beseech you that you will be honest
From henceforth; and not abuse his credulous Age,
Which you may easily doe. As for my self
What I can say, you know alas too well
Is ty'd within me, here it will sit like lead,
But shall offend no other, it will pluck me
Back from my ent'rance into any mirth,
As if a servant came, and whisper'd with me
Of some friends death, but I will bear my self,
To you, with all the due obedience
A son owes to a Mother: more than this,
Is not in me, but I must leave the rest to the
Just gods: who in their blessed time,
When they have given me punishment enough,
For my rash Sin, will mercifully find
As unexpected means to ease my grief
As they did now to bring it.
And I will be to you, no other than a natural Mother ought;
And for my honesty, so you will swear
Never to urge me, I shall keep it safe from any other.
For I doe feel a weakness in my self,
That can denie you nothing, if you tempt me,
I shall embrace Sin as it were a friend, and run to meet it.
It were from me, you would not urge an Oath.
But for your satisfaction, when I tempt you.
Of things past help, does not become us well.
Shall I send one for my Musicians, and we'll dance?
Do not you see me sowr?
And why think you I smile?
I cannot fancie a cause of mirth.
Break into laughter: what think you is to be done then?
To pass the time: but I will make you blush,
To see a bashfull woman teach a man
What we should doe alone: try again
If you can find it out.
You did it not your self, I will forgive you.
I ought to bear unto this wicked woman,
As she is now my Mother, Haste within me,
Lest I add sins to sins, till no repentance will cure me.
That I may swear thee welcome on thy Lipps
A thousand times.
You doe not know to what my Fathers wrong
May urge me.
The world, my life, and all my after hopes
Nothing without thy Love, mistake me not:
Thy Love, as I have had it, free and open
As wedlock is, within it self, what say you?
Kneels for thy mercie, and I swear to you
Though I should lye with you, it is no Lust,
For it desires no change, I could with you
Content my self; what answer will you give?
Than I am now: you see my tears deliver
My meaning to you.
To let a Lady kneel, to beg that thing
Which a right man would offer.
My self, how ever she does.
Yet they have more desire than I can find in you:
How fond was I to beg thy love! I'll force thee to my will
Dost thou not know that I can make the King
Dote as my list? yield quickly, or by Heaven
I'll have thee kept in prison for my purpose,
Where I will make thee serve my turn, and have thee fed
With such meats as best shall fit my ends
And not thy health, why dost not speak to me?
And when thou dost displease me, and art grown
Less able to perform; then I will have thee
Kill'd and forgotten: Are you striken dumb?
With you, you may command, but never that;
Say what you will, I'll hear you as becomes me,
If you speak, I will not follow your counsell,
Neither will I tell the world to your disgrace,
But give you the just honor
That is due from me to my Father's wife.
Of late: but you were telling me
You could have wisht that I had marry'd you,
If you will swear so yet, I'll make away the King.
For all your Railings: They will Batter walls
And take in Towns, as soon as trouble me:
Tell him, I care not, I shall undoe you only, which is no matter.
And cannot be other, Madam, I see 'tis in your power
To work your will on him: And I desire you
To lay what trains you will for my wish'd death,
But suffer him to find his quiet grave
In peace; Alas he never did you wrong,
And farther I beseech you pardon me,
For the ill word I gave you, for how ever
You may deserve, it became not me
To call you so, but passion urges me
I know not whither: my heart break now, & ease me ever.
With your goodly humor, I am weary of you extreamely:
Madam, I'll take my leave; gods set all right.
Am I deny'd? it does not trouble me
That I have mov'd, but that I am refus'd:
I have lost my patience: I will make him know
Lust is not Love, for Lust will find a mate
While there are men, and so will I: and more
Enter Timantus.
A fellow void of any worth, to raise himself,
And therefore like to catch at any evil
That will but pluck him up: him will I make
Mine own: Timantus.
Thou wert by chance, a means of this my raising:
Brought the Duke to me, and though 'twere but chance
I must reward thee.
And tell me, couldst thou now think that thing
Thou wouldst not do for me?
Go to my Lodging, and I'll follow thee. [Exit Timantus.
With my instruction I do see already,
This Prince that did but now contemn me, dead:
Yet will I never speak an evil word
Unto his Father of him, till I have won
A belief, I love him, but I'll make
His virtues his undoing, and my praises
Shall be so many swords against his breast,
Which once perform'd, I'll make Urania
My Daughter, the Kings heir, and plant my issue
In this large Throne: nor shall it be withstood,
They that begin in Lust, must end in Blood. [Exit.
Enter Dorialus, Agenor, Nisus.
Suffers him to be a child again
Under his Wives tuition.
service? sure we shall learn to spinn.
Liberal Sciences taught us too soon;
Lying, and flattering, those are the studies now:
And Murther shortly I know, will be humanity, Gent.
If we live here we must be knaves, believe it.
Own nature hate it, if all determine to be knaves,
I'll try what I can do upon my self: that's certain,
I will not have my throat cut for my goodness,
The virtue will not quit the pain.
Why is the Prince, now ripe and full experient,
Not made a dore in the State?
Enter Timantus.
Tim. Goodness attend your Honors.
Dor. You must not be amongst us then.
Tim. The Dutchess, whose humble servant I am proud to be, would speak with you.
Age. Sir, we are pleas'd to wait: when is it?
Tim. An hour hence my good Lords, and so I leave my service.
Dor. This is one of her Ferrets that she bolts business out withall: this fellow, if he were well ript, has all the linings of a knave within him: how slye he looks!
Nis. Have we nothing about our cloaths that he may catch at?
Agenor. O my conscience, there's no treason in my dublet, if there be, my elbows will discover it, they are out.
Dor. Faith, and all the harm that I can find in mine is, that they are not pay'd for; let him make what he can of that, so he discharge that. Come, let's go. [Exeunt.
Enter Bach, Leontius, Tella.
Bac. And you shall find Sir what [a] blessing heaven gave you in such a son.
Le. Pray gods, I may, Let's walk & change our subject.
Bac. O Sir, can any thing come sweeter to you, or strike a deeper joy into your heart than your son's virtue?
Leon. I allow his virtues: but 'tis not handsome thus to feed my self with such moderate praises of mine own.
Bac. The subject of our comendations is it self grown so infinite in goodness, that all the glory we can lay upon it, though we should open volumes of his praises, is a mere modesty in his expression, and shews him lame still, like an ill wrought peece wanting proportion.
Leo. Yet still he is a man, and subject still to more inordinate vices, than our love can give him blessing.
Bac. Else he were a god: yet so near as he is, he comes to heaven, that we may see so far as flesh can point us things only worthy them, and only these in all his actions.
Leon. This is too much my Queen.
Bach. Had the gods lov'd me; that my unworthy womb had bred this brave man.
Leon. Still you run wrong.
Bach. I would have liv'd upon the comfort of him; fed on his growing hopes.
Leo. This touches me.
Bach. I know no friends, nor Being, but his virtues.
Le. You have laid out words enough upon a subject.
Bach. But words cannot express him Sir: why what a shape Heaven has conceiv'd him in, oh Nature made him up!
Leon. I wonder Dutchess.
Bach. So you must: for less than admiration loses this godlike man.
Leon. Have you done with him?
Bach. Done with? O good gods what frailties thus pass by us without reverence!
Leon. I see no such perfection.
To you, speak in your heart, not in your tongue.
Good fortune, and all those friends of honor,
They are in him as free and natural, as passions
In a Woman.
To see how blindly you have flung your praises
Upon a Boy, a very child, and worthless,
Whilst I live, of these Honors.
Shew me so much a woman: as to praise
Or dispraise, where my will is, without reason,
Or generall allowance of the people.
And doat upon him: love him, and admire him.
All things are bound together that are kingly,
A fitness to bear rule:
Of more infection than the Dragons tooth,
Or the gross Air o'er heated.
courting. How you like him.
Than a Father.
I dare deliver boldly: He is the storehouse
And head of virtue; your great self excepted,
That feeds the Kingdome.
do a service worth a Fathers thanks.
times which I could wish less dangerous.
But pardon me, I am too bold.
My eyes or ears, so subtle to observe
Faults in a State: all my main business
Is service to your Grace, and necessaries
For my poor life.
But that you know tell me, and presently.
I'll speak it freely: Alwayes my obedience
And love preserv'd unto the Prince.
How like a Sun in all his great employments,
How full of heat.
As they would do the gods, if they did dwell with 'em.
Leads 'em without Alleageance or Religion.
For Heavens sake have a care of your own person:
I cannot tell, their wickedness may lead
Farther than I dare think yet.
Persuade 'em, and no doubt will: virtue is ever watchfull,
But be you still secur'd and comforted.
So heavy and unnaturall, should fall upon me
When I am old and helpless.
thee, to rob thee of a Father:
All the Court is full of dangerous whispers.
Will make my safety: I'll cut him shorter.
I'll cut him shorter first, then let him rule.
sword to smite the virtuous! Alas, alas:
And hold your favor to him: for 'tis now
Impossible to yoke him, if his thoughts,
As I must ne'er believe, run with their rages,
He never was so innocent, but what reason
His Grace has to withdraw his love from me,
And other good men that are near your person,
I cannot yet find out: I know my duty
Has ever been attending.
I'll prevent him, not a word more of this, be private. [Exit Leontius.
instructions.
Enter Dorialus, Nisus, Agenor.