Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.
Enter Shamont's brother, a Soldier and a Lady, the Dukes Sister.
Lady. There should be in this Gallery—oh th'are here,
Pray sit down, believe me Sir, I'm weary.
Pray sit down, believe me Sir, I'm weary.
Sold. It well becomes a Lady to complain a little
Of what she never feels: your walk was short, Madam,
You can be but afraid of weariness;
Which well employs the softness of your Sex,
As for the thing it self, you never came to't.
Of what she never feels: your walk was short, Madam,
You can be but afraid of weariness;
Which well employs the softness of your Sex,
As for the thing it self, you never came to't.
La. You're wond'rously well read in Ladies, Sir.
Sold. Shall I think such a creature as you Madam,
Was ever born to feel pain, but in Travel?
There's your full portion,
Besides a little tooth-ach in the breeding,
Which a kind Husband too, takes from you, Madam.
Was ever born to feel pain, but in Travel?
There's your full portion,
Besides a little tooth-ach in the breeding,
Which a kind Husband too, takes from you, Madam.
La. But where do Ladies, Sir, find such kind Husbands?
Perhaps you have heard
The Rheumatick story of some loving Chandler now,
Or some such melting fellow that you talk
So prodigal of mens kindness: I confess Sir,
Many of those wives are happy, their ambition
Does reach no higher, than to Love and Ignorance,
Which makes an excellent Husband, and a fond one:
Now Sir, your great ones aim at height, and cunning,
And so are oft deceiv'd, yet they must venture it;
For 'tis a Ladies contumely, Sir,
To have a Lord an Ignorant; then the worlds voice
Will deem her for a wanton, e'r she taste on't:
But to deceive a wise man, to whose circumspection,
The world resigns it self, with all his envy;
'Tis less dishonor to us [then] to fall,
Because his believ'd wisdom keeps out all.
Perhaps you have heard
The Rheumatick story of some loving Chandler now,
Or some such melting fellow that you talk
So prodigal of mens kindness: I confess Sir,
Many of those wives are happy, their ambition
Does reach no higher, than to Love and Ignorance,
Which makes an excellent Husband, and a fond one:
Now Sir, your great ones aim at height, and cunning,
And so are oft deceiv'd, yet they must venture it;
For 'tis a Ladies contumely, Sir,
To have a Lord an Ignorant; then the worlds voice
Will deem her for a wanton, e'r she taste on't:
But to deceive a wise man, to whose circumspection,
The world resigns it self, with all his envy;
'Tis less dishonor to us [then] to fall,
Because his believ'd wisdom keeps out all.
Sold. Would I were the man, Lady, that should venture
His wisdom to your goodness.
His wisdom to your goodness.
La. You might fail
In the return, as many men have done, Sir:
I dare not justifie what is to come of me,
Because I know it not, though I hope virtuously;
Marry what's past, or present, I durst put
Into a good mans hand, which if he take
Upon my word for good, it shall not cozen him.
In the return, as many men have done, Sir:
I dare not justifie what is to come of me,
Because I know it not, though I hope virtuously;
Marry what's past, or present, I durst put
Into a good mans hand, which if he take
Upon my word for good, it shall not cozen him.
Sol. No, nor hereafter?
La. It may hap so too, Sir:
A womans goodness, when she is a wife,
Lies much upon a mans desert, believe it Sir,
If there be fault in her, I'll pawn my life on't,
'Tis first in him, if she were ever good,
That makes one; knowing not a Husband yet,
Or what he may be: I promise no more virtues,
Than I may well perform, for that were cozenage.
A womans goodness, when she is a wife,
Lies much upon a mans desert, believe it Sir,
If there be fault in her, I'll pawn my life on't,
'Tis first in him, if she were ever good,
That makes one; knowing not a Husband yet,
Or what he may be: I promise no more virtues,
Than I may well perform, for that were cozenage.
Sol. Happy were he that had you with all fears,
That's my opinion, Lady.
That's my opinion, Lady.
Enter Shamount and a servant list'ning.
Sham. Not yet I dare not.
Serv. No?
Sham. Scarce yet, or yet:
Although I see 'tis he. Why can a thing,
That's but my self divided, be so false?
Although I see 'tis he. Why can a thing,
That's but my self divided, be so false?
Serv. Nay, do but mark how the chair plays hi[s] part too:
How amoro[u]sly 'tis bent.
How amoro[u]sly 'tis bent.
Sh[a]m. Hell take thy bad thoughts,
For they are strange ones. Never take delight
To make a torment worse. Look on 'em heaven,
For that's a brother: send me a fair enemy,
And take him; for a fouler Fiend there breathes not:
I will not sin to think there's ill in her,
But what's of his producing.
Yet goodness, whose inclosure is but flesh,
Holds out oft times but sorrily. But as black Sir,
As ever kindred was: I hate mine own bloud,
Because i[t] is so near thine. Live without honesty,
And mayst thou dye with an unmoist'ned eye,
And no tear follow thee. [Ex. Shamont, Servant.
For they are strange ones. Never take delight
To make a torment worse. Look on 'em heaven,
For that's a brother: send me a fair enemy,
And take him; for a fouler Fiend there breathes not:
I will not sin to think there's ill in her,
But what's of his producing.
Yet goodness, whose inclosure is but flesh,
Holds out oft times but sorrily. But as black Sir,
As ever kindred was: I hate mine own bloud,
Because i[t] is so near thine. Live without honesty,
And mayst thou dye with an unmoist'ned eye,
And no tear follow thee. [Ex. Shamont, Servant.
La. Y'are wond'rous merry Sir; I would your Brother heard you.
Sold. Oh my Sister,
I would not out o'th' way, let fall my words Lady,
For the precisest humor.
I would not out o'th' way, let fall my words Lady,
For the precisest humor.
Enter passionate Lord.
Pas. Yea, so close.
Sold. Th'are merry, that's the worst you can report on 'em:
Th'are neither dangerous, nor immodest.
Th'are neither dangerous, nor immodest.
Pas. So Sir,
Shall I believe you, think you?
Shall I believe you, think you?
Sold. Who's this Lady?
La. Oh the Dukes Cosin, he came late from travel, Sir.
Sold. Respect belongs to him.
Pas. For as I said, Lady,
Th'are merry, that's the worst you can report of 'em:
Th'are neither dangerous, nor immodest.
Th'are merry, that's the worst you can report of 'em:
Th'are neither dangerous, nor immodest.
Sold. How's this?
Pas. And there I think I left.
Pas. Now to proceed, Lady; perhaps I swore I lov'd you,
If you believe me not, y'are much the wiser.
If you believe me not, y'are much the wiser.
Sold. He speaks still in my person, and derides me.
Pas. For I can cog with you.
La. You can all do so:
We make no question of mens promptness that way.
We make no question of mens promptness that way.
Pas. And smile, and wave a chair with comely grace too,
Play with our Tastle gently, and do fine things,
That catch a Lady sooner than a virtue.
Play with our Tastle gently, and do fine things,
That catch a Lady sooner than a virtue.
Sold. I never us'd to let man live so long
That wrong'd me.
That wrong'd me.
Pas. Talk of Battalions, wooe you in a skirmish;
Divine my mind to you Lady; and being sharp set,
Can court you at Half pike: or name your weapon,
We cannot fail you Lady.
Divine my mind to you Lady; and being sharp set,
Can court you at Half pike: or name your weapon,
We cannot fail you Lady.
Enter 1 Gentleman.
Sold. Now he dies:
Were all succeeding hopes stor'd up within him.
Were all succeeding hopes stor'd up within him.
1 Gent. Oh fie, i'th' Court, Sir?
Sold. I most dearly thank you; Sir.
1 Gent. 'Tis rage ill spent upon a passionate mad man.
Sold. That shall not priviledge him for ever, Sir:
A mad man call you him? I have found too much reason
Sound in his injury to me, to believe him so.
A mad man call you him? I have found too much reason
Sound in his injury to me, to believe him so.
1 Gent. If ever truth from mans lips may be held
In reputation with you, give this confidence;
And this his Love-fit, which we observe still,
By's flattering and his fineness: at some other time,
He'll go as slovenly as heart can wish.
The love and pity that his Highness shews to him,
Makes every man the more respectful of him:
Has never a passion, but is well provided for,
As this of Love, he is full fed in all
His swinge, as I may tearm it: have but patience,
And ye shall witness somewhat.
In reputation with you, give this confidence;
And this his Love-fit, which we observe still,
By's flattering and his fineness: at some other time,
He'll go as slovenly as heart can wish.
The love and pity that his Highness shews to him,
Makes every man the more respectful of him:
Has never a passion, but is well provided for,
As this of Love, he is full fed in all
His swinge, as I may tearm it: have but patience,
And ye shall witness somewhat.
Sold. Still he mocks me:
Look you, in action, in behaviour, Sir;
Hold still the chair, with a grand mischief to you,
Or I'll let so much strength upon your heart, Sir—
Look you, in action, in behaviour, Sir;
Hold still the chair, with a grand mischief to you,
Or I'll let so much strength upon your heart, Sir—
Pas. I feel some power has restrain'd me Lady:
If it be sent from Love, say, I obey it,
And ever keep a voice to welcome it.
If it be sent from Love, say, I obey it,
And ever keep a voice to welcome it.
SONG.
Thou Deity, swift winged Love,
Sometimes below, sometimes above,
Little in shape, but great in power,
Thou that mak'st a heart thy Tower,
And thy loop-holes Ladies eyes,
From whence thou strik'st the fond and wise.
Did all the Shafts in thy fair Quiver
Stick fast in my ambitious Liver;
Yet thy power would I adore.
And call upon thee to shoot more,
Shoot more, shoot more.
Sometimes below, sometimes above,
Little in shape, but great in power,
Thou that mak'st a heart thy Tower,
And thy loop-holes Ladies eyes,
From whence thou strik'st the fond and wise.
Did all the Shafts in thy fair Quiver
Stick fast in my ambitious Liver;
Yet thy power would I adore.
And call upon thee to shoot more,
Shoot more, shoot more.
Enter one like a Cupid, offering to shoot at him.
Pas. I prethee hold though, sweet Celestial boy;
I'm not requited yet with love enough,
For the first Arrow that I have within me;
And if thou be an equal Archer Cupid,
Shoot this Lady, and twenty more for me.
I'm not requited yet with love enough,
For the first Arrow that I have within me;
And if thou be an equal Archer Cupid,
Shoot this Lady, and twenty more for me.
La. Me Sir?
1 Gent. 'Tis nothing but device, fear it not Lady;
You may be as good a Maid after that shaft, Madam,
As e'er your mother was at twelve and a half:
'Tis like the boy that draws it, 'tas no sting yet.
You may be as good a Maid after that shaft, Madam,
As e'er your mother was at twelve and a half:
'Tis like the boy that draws it, 'tas no sting yet.
Cup. 'Tis like the miserable Maid that draws it—Aside.
That sees no comfort yet, seeing him so passionate.
That sees no comfort yet, seeing him so passionate.
Pas. Strike me the Duchess of Valois in love with me,
With all the speed thou canst, and two of her Women.
With all the speed thou canst, and two of her Women.
Cu. You shall have more. [Exit.
Pas. Tell 'em I tarry for 'em.
1 Gent. Who would be angry with that walking trouble now?
That hurts none but it self?
That hurts none but it self?
Sold. I am better quieted.
Enter again the same Cupid, two Brothers, six Women Maskers, Cupid's Bow bent all the way towards them, the first woman singing and playing, a Priest.
SONG.
Oh turn thy bow,
Thy power we feel and know,
Fair Cupid turn away thy Bow:
They be those golden Arrows,
Bring Ladies all their sorrows,
And till there be more truth in men,
Never shoot at Maid agen.
Thy power we feel and know,
Fair Cupid turn away thy Bow:
They be those golden Arrows,
Bring Ladies all their sorrows,
And till there be more truth in men,
Never shoot at Maid agen.
Pas. What a felicity of whores are here!
And all my Concubines struck bleeding new:
A man can in his life time make but one woman,
But he may make his fifty Queans a month.
And all my Concubines struck bleeding new:
A man can in his life time make but one woman,
But he may make his fifty Queans a month.
Cu. Have you remembred a Priest, honest brothers?
1 Bro. Yes Sister, and this is the young Gentleman,
Make you no question of our faithfulness.
Make you no question of our faithfulness.
2 Bro. His growing shame, Sister, provokes our care:
Priest. He must be taken in this fit of Love, Gentlemen.
1 Bro. What else Sir, he shall do't.
2 Bro. Enough.
1 Bro. Be chearful wench. [A dance. Cupid leading.
Pas. Now by the stroke of pleasure, a deep oath,
Nimbly hopt Ladies all; what height they bear too!
A story higher than your common statures;
A little man must go up stairs to kiss 'em:
What a great space there is
Betwixt Loves Dining Chamber, and his Garret!
I'll try the utmost height—the Garret stoops methinks;
The rooms are made all bending, I see that,
And not so high as a man takes 'em for.
Nimbly hopt Ladies all; what height they bear too!
A story higher than your common statures;
A little man must go up stairs to kiss 'em:
What a great space there is
Betwixt Loves Dining Chamber, and his Garret!
I'll try the utmost height—the Garret stoops methinks;
The rooms are made all bending, I see that,
And not so high as a man takes 'em for.
Pas. Are they all shot?
Cu. All, all Sir, every mothers daughter of 'em.
Pas. Then there's no fear of following; if they be once shot
They'll follow a man to th' devil—As for you, Sir—
They'll follow a man to th' devil—As for you, Sir—
[Ex. with the Lady and the Masquers.
Sold. Me Sir?
1 Gent. Nay sweet Sir.
Sold. A noise, a threatening, did you not hear it Sir?
1 Gent. Without regard, Sir, so would I hear you.
Sold. This must come to something, never talk of that Sir.
You never saw it otherwise.
You never saw it otherwise.
1 Gent. Nay dear merit—
Sold. Me above all men?
1 Gent. Troth you wrong your anger.
Sold. I will be arm'd, my honourable Letcher.
1 Gent. Oh fie sweet Sir.
Sold. That devours womens honesties by lumps,
And never chaw'st thy pleasure:
And never chaw'st thy pleasure:
2 Gent. What do you mean, Sir?
Sold. What does he mean t'ingross all to himself?
There's others love a whore as well as he Sir.
There's others love a whore as well as he Sir.
1 Gent. Oh, if that be part o' th' fury, we have a City
Is very well provided for that case;
Let him alone with her, Sir, we have Women
Are very charitable to proper men,
And to a Soldier that has all his limbs;
Marry the sick and lame gets not a penny:
Right womens charity, and the Husbands follow't too:
Here comes his Highness Sir.
Is very well provided for that case;
Let him alone with her, Sir, we have Women
Are very charitable to proper men,
And to a Soldier that has all his limbs;
Marry the sick and lame gets not a penny:
Right womens charity, and the Husbands follow't too:
Here comes his Highness Sir.
Enter Duke and Lords.
Sold. I'll walk to cool my self. [Exit.
Duke. Who's that?
1 Gent. The brother of Shamont.
Duke. He's Brother then
To all the Courts love, they that love discreetly,
And place their friendliness upon desert:
As for the rest, that with a double face
Look upon merit much like fortunes visage,
That looks two ways, both to life's calms and storms,
I'll so provide for him, chiefly for him,
He shall not wish their loves, nor dread their envies.
And here comes my Shamont.
To all the Courts love, they that love discreetly,
And place their friendliness upon desert:
As for the rest, that with a double face
Look upon merit much like fortunes visage,
That looks two ways, both to life's calms and storms,
I'll so provide for him, chiefly for him,
He shall not wish their loves, nor dread their envies.
And here comes my Shamont.
Enter Shamont.
Sham. That Ladies virtues are my only joyes,
And he to offer to lay siege to them?
And he to offer to lay siege to them?
Duke. Shamont.
Sham. Her goodness is my pride: in all discourses,
As often as I hear rash tongu'd gallants,
Speak rudely of a woman, presently
I give in but her name, and th'are all silent:
Oh who would loose this benefit?
As often as I hear rash tongu'd gallants,
Speak rudely of a woman, presently
I give in but her name, and th'are all silent:
Oh who would loose this benefit?
Duke. Come hither Sir.
Sham. 'Tis like the Gift of Healing, but Diviner;
For that but cures diseases in the body,
This works a cure on Fame, on Reputation:
The noblest piece of Surgery upon earth.
For that but cures diseases in the body,
This works a cure on Fame, on Reputation:
The noblest piece of Surgery upon earth.
Duke. Shamont; he minds me not.
Sham. A Brother do't?
Duke. Shamont I say. [Gives him a touch with his switch.
Sham. Ha?
If he be mortal, by this hand he perishes; [Draws.
Unless it be a stroke from heaven, he dies for't.
If he be mortal, by this hand he perishes; [Draws.
Unless it be a stroke from heaven, he dies for't.
Duke. Why, how now Sir? 'twas I.
Sham. The more's my misery.
Duke. Why, what's the matter prethee?
Sham. Can you ask it, Sir?
No man else should; stood forty lives before him,
By this I would have op'd my way to him;
It could not be you Sir, excuse him not,
What e'er he be, as y'are dear to honor,
That I may find my peace agen.
No man else should; stood forty lives before him,
By this I would have op'd my way to him;
It could not be you Sir, excuse him not,
What e'er he be, as y'are dear to honor,
That I may find my peace agen.
Duke. Forbear I say,
Upon my love to truth, 'twas none but I.
Upon my love to truth, 'twas none but I.
Sham. Still miserable?
Duke. Come, come, what ails you Sir?
Sham. Never sate shame cooling so long upon me,
Without a satisfaction in revenge,
And heaven has made it here a sin to wish it.
Without a satisfaction in revenge,
And heaven has made it here a sin to wish it.
Duke. Hark you Sir!
Sham. Oh y'ave undone me.
Duke. How?
Sham. Cruelly undone me;
I have lost my peace and reputation by you:
Sir, pardon me, I can never love you more. [Exit.
I have lost my peace and reputation by you:
Sir, pardon me, I can never love you more. [Exit.
Duke. What language call you this Sirs?
1 Gent. Truth my Lord, I've seldom heard a stranger—
2 Gent. He is a man of a most curious valour,
Wondrous precise, and punctual in that virtue.
Wondrous precise, and punctual in that virtue.
Duke. But why to me so punctual? my last thought
Was most intirely fixt on his advancement
Why, I came now to put him in possession
Of his fair fortunes: what a mis-conceiver 'tis!
And from a Gentleman of our Chamber meerly,
Made him Vice-Admiral: I was setled in't.
I love him next to health: call him Gentlemen;
Why would not you, or you, ha' taken as much,
And never murmur'd? [Exit 1 Gent.
Was most intirely fixt on his advancement
Why, I came now to put him in possession
Of his fair fortunes: what a mis-conceiver 'tis!
And from a Gentleman of our Chamber meerly,
Made him Vice-Admiral: I was setled in't.
I love him next to health: call him Gentlemen;
Why would not you, or you, ha' taken as much,
And never murmur'd? [Exit 1 Gent.
2 Gent. Troth, I think we should, my Lord,
And there's a fellow walks about the Court,
Would take a hundred of 'em.
And there's a fellow walks about the Court,
Would take a hundred of 'em.
Duke. I hate you all for't,
And rather praise his high pitch'd fortitude,
Though in extreams for niceness: now I think on't,
I would I had never done't—Now Sir, where is he?
And rather praise his high pitch'd fortitude,
Though in extreams for niceness: now I think on't,
I would I had never done't—Now Sir, where is he?
Enter 1 Gentleman.
1 Gent. His sute is only Sir, to be excus'd.
Duke. He shall not be excus'd, I love him dearlier:
Say we intreat him; goe, he must not leave us [Exit two Gentlemen.
So virtue bless me, I ne'er knew him paralell'd;
Why, he's more precious to me now, than ever.
Say we intreat him; goe, he must not leave us [Exit two Gentlemen.
So virtue bless me, I ne'er knew him paralell'd;
Why, he's more precious to me now, than ever.
Enter two Gentlemen, and Shamont.
2 Gent. With much fair language w'ave brought him.
Duke. Thanks——Where is he?
Duke. Come forward man.
Sham. Pray pardon me, I'm asham'd to be seen Sir.
Duke. Was ever such a touchie man heard of?
Prethee come nearer.
Prethee come nearer.
Sham. More into the light?
Put not such cruelty into your requests my Lord,
First to disgrace me publickly, and then draw me
Into mens eye-sight, with the shame yet hot
Upon my reputation.
Put not such cruelty into your requests my Lord,
First to disgrace me publickly, and then draw me
Into mens eye-sight, with the shame yet hot
Upon my reputation.
Duke. What disgrace, Sir?
Sham. What?
Such as there can be no forgiveness for,
That I can find in honour.
Such as there can be no forgiveness for,
That I can find in honour.
Duke. That's most strange, Sir.
Sham. Yet I have search'd my bosom to find one,
And wrestled with my inclination,
But 'twill not be: would you had kill'd me Sir.
With what an ease had I forgiven you then!
But to endure a stroke from any hand
Under a punishing Angel, which is justice,
Honor disclaim that man, for my part chiefly:
Had it been yet the malice of your sword,
Though it had cleft me, 't had been noble to me;
You should have found my thanks paid in a smile
If I had fell unworded; but to shame me,
With the correction that your horse should have,
Were you ten thousand times my royal Lord,
I cannot love you never, nor desire to serve you more.
If your drum call me, I am vowed to valour,
But peace shall never know me yours agen,
Because I've lost mine own, I speak to dye Sir;
Would you were gracious that way to take off shame,
With the same swiftness as you pour it on:
And since it is not in the power of Monarchs
To make a Gentleman, which is a substance
Only begot of merit, they should be careful
Not to destroy the worth of one so rare,
Which neither they can make; nor lost, repair. [Exit.
And wrestled with my inclination,
But 'twill not be: would you had kill'd me Sir.
With what an ease had I forgiven you then!
But to endure a stroke from any hand
Under a punishing Angel, which is justice,
Honor disclaim that man, for my part chiefly:
Had it been yet the malice of your sword,
Though it had cleft me, 't had been noble to me;
You should have found my thanks paid in a smile
If I had fell unworded; but to shame me,
With the correction that your horse should have,
Were you ten thousand times my royal Lord,
I cannot love you never, nor desire to serve you more.
If your drum call me, I am vowed to valour,
But peace shall never know me yours agen,
Because I've lost mine own, I speak to dye Sir;
Would you were gracious that way to take off shame,
With the same swiftness as you pour it on:
And since it is not in the power of Monarchs
To make a Gentleman, which is a substance
Only begot of merit, they should be careful
Not to destroy the worth of one so rare,
Which neither they can make; nor lost, repair. [Exit.
Duke. Y'ave set a fair light Sir before my judgement,
Which burns with wondrous clearness; I acknowledge it,
And your worth with it: but then Sir, my love,
My love—what gone agen?
Which burns with wondrous clearness; I acknowledge it,
And your worth with it: but then Sir, my love,
My love—what gone agen?
1 Gen. And full of scorn, my Lord.
Duke. That language will undoe the man that keeps it.
Who knows no diff'rence 'twixt contempt and manhood.
Upon your love to goodness, Gentlemen,
Let me not lose him long: how now?
Who knows no diff'rence 'twixt contempt and manhood.
Upon your love to goodness, Gentlemen,
Let me not lose him long: how now?
Enter a Huntsman.
Hunts. The game's at height my Lord.
Duke. Confound both thee and it: hence break it off;
He hates me brings me news of any pleasure:
I felt not such a conflict since I cou'd;
Distinguish betwixt worthiness and bloud. [Ex.
He hates me brings me news of any pleasure:
I felt not such a conflict since I cou'd;
Distinguish betwixt worthiness and bloud. [Ex.