The Project Gutenberg eBook of Beaumont & Fletcher's Works (6 of 10):, by Francis Beaumont; John Fletcher.

Cra. She must pass through this Cloyster, suddainly
And boldly seize upon her.

Nea. Where's the Prince?

Cra. He does expect us at the place I shew'd you.

I hear ones footing, peace, 'tis she;

Mer. Now leave me,
I know the way, though Vesta witness with me
I never trode it with such fear: help, help.

Cra. Stop her mouth close, out with the Light, I'll guide you.

Mer. To whom now shall I cry? What pow'r thus kneel to?
And beg my ravisht honor back upon me?
Deaf, deaf, you gods of goodness, deaf to me,
Deaf Heaven to all my cries; deaf hope, deaf justice,
I am abus'd, and you, that see all, saw it;
Saw it, and smil'd upon the villain did it:
Saw it, and gave him strength: why have I pray'd to ye,
When all the worlds eyes have been sunk in slumbers?
Why have I then powr'd out my tears? kneel'd to ye,
And from the Altar of a pure heart sent ye
Thoughts like your selves, white, innocent, vows purer
And of a sweeter flame than all the earths odours?
Why have I sung your praises, strew'd your Temples,
And crown'd your Holy Priests with Virgin Roses?
Is it we hold ye powerful, to destroy us?
Believe, and honor ye, to see us ruin'd?
These tears of anger thus I sprinkle toward ye,
You that dare sleep secure whilst Virgins suffer,
These stick like Comets, blaze eternally,
Till, with the wonder, they have wak'd your justice,
And forc't ye fear our curses, as we yours.

My shame still follows me, and still proclaims me;
He turns away in scorn, I am contemned too,
A more unmanly violence than the other;
Bitten, and flung away? What e'r you are
Sir, you that have abus'd me, and now most basely
And sacrilegiously robb'd this fair Temple,
I fling all these behind me, but look upon me,
But one kind loving look, be what ye will,
So from this hour you will be mine, my Husband;
And you his hand in mischief, I speak to you too,
Counsel him nobly now; you know the mischief,
The most unrighteous act he has done, perswade him,
Perswade him like a friend, knock at his Conscience
Till fair Repentance follow: yet be worthy of me,
And shew your self, if ever good thought guided ye;
You have had your foul will; make it yet fair with marriage;
Open your self and take me, wed me now: [Draws his Dagger.
More fruits of villany? your Dagger? come
Ye are merciful, I thank you for your medicine:
Is that too worthy too?

Devil, thou with him,
Thou penny Bawd to his Lust, will not that stir thee?
Do you work by tokens now? Be sure I live not,
For your own safeties knaves. I will sit patiently:
But as ye are true villains, the Devils own servants,
And those he loves and trusts, make it as bloody
An Act, of such true horror, Heaven would shake at,
'Twill shew the braver: goodness hold my hope fast,
And in thy mercies look upon my ruines,
And then I am right: my eyes grow dead and heavy:

Wrong me no more as ye are men.

The. She is fast.

Cra. Away with her. [Exeunt.

Age. Now Gentlemen, the time's come now t' enjoy
That fruitful happiness my heart has long'd for:
This day be happy call'd, and when old Time
Brings it about each year, crown'd with that sweetness
It gives me now, see every man observe it,
And laying all aside bears shew of business,
Give this to joy and triumph: How fits my cloaths?

1 Gent. Handsome, and wondrous well, Sir.

Ag. Do they shew richly?
For to those curious eyes even beauty envies,
I must not now appear poor, or low fashion'd;
Methinks I am younger than I was, far younger;
And such a promise in my bloud I feel now,
That if there may be a perpetual youth
Bestowed on man, I am that soul shall win it:
Does my hair stand well, Lord how ill-favourdly
You have drest me to day! how baldly! why this Cloak?

2 Gen. Why 'tis the richest, Sir.

Age. And here ye have put me on
A pair of Breeches look like a pair of Bagpipes.

1 Gen. Believe Sir, they shew bravely.

Ag. Why these Stockins?

2 Gen. Your Leg appears—

Ag. Peuh, I would have had 'em Peach-colour,
All young, and new about me: and this Scarf here
A goodly thing: you have trickt me like a Puppet.

1 Gen. I'll undertake to rig forth a whole Navy,
And with less labor than one man in love.
They are never pleas'd.

2 Gen. Methinks he looks well.

1 Gen. Well:
As man can look, as handsome: now do I wonder
He found not fault his Nose was put on ugly,
Or his Eyes lookt too gray, and rail at us,
They are the waywards things, these Lovers.

2 Gent. All will be right.
When once it comes to th' push.

1 Gent. I would they were at it
For our own quiet sake.

Ag. Come, wait upon me,
And bear your selves like mine, my friends, and nobly. [Ex.

Erat. This is her Brothers door.

Cra. There lay her down then.
Lay her along: she is fast still.

[Era]. As forgetfulness.

Cra. Be not you stirr'd now, but away to your Mother,
Give all attendance, let no stain appear
Of fear, or doubt in your face: carry your self confidently.

The. But whither runs your drift now?

Cra. When she wakes,
Either what's done will shew a meer dream to her,
And carry no more credit: or say she find it,
Say she remember all the circumstances,
Twenty to one the shapes in which they were acted,
The horrors, and the still affrights we shew'd her,
Rising in wilder figures to her memory
Will run her mad, and no man guess the reason:
If all these fail, and that she rise up perfect,
And so collect her self, believe this, Sir,
Not knowing who it was that did this to her,
Nor having any power to ghess; the thing done too
Being the utter undoing of her honor
If it be known, and to the worlds eye publish'd,
Especially at this time when Fortune courts her,
She must and will conceal it; nay, forget it,
The woman is no Lucrece; get you gone Sir,
And as you would have more of this sport, fear not.

The. I am confirm'd, farewel.

Cra. Farewel, away Sir:
Disperse your selves, and as you love his favour,
And that that crowns it, Gold, no tongues amongst ye.
You know your charge, this way goes no suspicion. [Ex.

Ag. You are stirring early, Sir.

Leo. It was my duty
To wait upon your Grace.

Ag. How fares your Sister,
My beauteous Mistriss, what is she ready yet?

Leo. No doubt she'll lose no time Sir, young Maids in her way
Tread upon thorns, and think an hour an age
Till the Priest has done his part, that theirs may follow:
I saw her not since yesterday i'th' evening:
But Sir, I am sure she is not slack; believe me,
Your grace will find a loving soul.

Ag. A sweet one,
And so much joy I carry in the thought of it,
So great a happiness to know she is mine;
Believe me noble Brother, that to express it
Methinks a Tongue's a poor thing: can do nothing,
Imagination less: who's that that lies there?

Leo. Where Sir?

Ag. Before the door, it looks like a woman.

Leo. This way I came abroad, but then there was nothing,
One of the Maids o'rwatch'd belike:

Ag. It may be.

Leo. But methinks this is no fit place to sleep in.

1 Gent. 'Tis sure a woman Sir, she has jewels on too:
She fears no foul play sure.

Leo. Bring a Torch hither,
Yet ['tis] not perfect day: I should know those Garments.

Ag. How sound she sleeps!

Leo. I am sorry to see this.

Ag. Do you know her?

Leo. And you now I am sure Sir.

Ag. My Mistriss, how comes this?

Leo. The Queen and her train?

Qu. You know my pleasure.

Euph. And will be most careful.

Qu. Be not long absent, the suit you preferr'd
Is granted.

Nea. This fellow mounts apace, and will
Towre o'r us like a Falcon.

Qu. Good morrow to ye all, why stand ye wondring?
Enter the house Sir, and bring out your Mistriss,
You must observe our Ceremonies: what's the matter?
What's that ye stand at? How Merione?
Asleep i'th' street? belike some sudden Palsie
As she stept out last night upon devotion,
To take her farewel of her Virgin state,
The air being sharp and piercing, struck her suddenly:
See if she breath.

Leo. A little.

Qu. Wake her then,
'Tis sure a fit.

Ag. She wakes her self,
Give room to her.

Qu. See how the spirits struggle to recover,
And strongly reinforce their strength; for certain
This was no natural sleep.

The. I am of your mind, Madam.

Qu. No Son, it cannot be.

The. Pray Heaven no trick in't;
Good Soul she little merits such a mischief.

Qu. She is broad awake now, and her sence cleers up,
'Twas sure a fit; stand off.

Mer. The Queen, my Love here,
And all my noble friends? Why where am I?
How am I tranc'd, and moap'd? I' th' street? Heaven bless me,
Shame to my Sex; o'th' ground too? O I remember—

Leo. How wild she looks?

Ag. Oh my cold heart, how she trembles!

Mer. Oh I remember, I remember.

Qu. What's that?

Mer. My shame, my shame, my shame: Oh I remember
My never-dying shame.

The. Here has been villanie.

Qu. I fear so too.

Mer. You are no Furies are ye?
No horrid shapes sent to affright me?

Ag. No sweet,
We are your friends: look up, I am Agenor,
O my Merione, that loves you dearly:
And come to marry ye.

Leo. Sister, what ail ye?
Speak out your griefs, and boldly—

Ag. Something sticks here
Will choak ye else.

Mer. I hope it will.

Qu. Be free Lady,
You have your loving friends about ye.

A[g]. Dear Merione,
By the unspotted love I ever bore ye,
By thine own goodness—

Mer. Oh 'tis gone, 'tis gone Sir,
I am now I know not what: pray ye look not on me,
No name is left me, nothing to inherit
But that detested, base, and branded—

Ag. Speak it,
And how; diseases of most danger
Their causes once discover'd are easily cur'd:
My fair Merione.

Mer. I thank your love Sir;
When I was fair Merione, unspotted,
Pure, and unblasted in the bud you honour'd,
White as the heart of truth, then Prince Agenor,
Even then I was not worthy of your favour;
Wretch that I am, less worthy now of pitty:
Let no good thing come near me, virtue flie me;
You that have honest noble names despise me,
For I am nothing now but a main pestilence
Able to poison all. Send those unto me
That have forgot their names, ruin'd their fortunes,
Despis'd their honours; those that have been Virgins
Ravish'd and wrong'd, and yet dare live to tell it.

The. Now it appears too plain.

Mer. Send those sad people
That hate the light, and curse society;
Whose thoughts are Graves, and from whose eyes continually
Their melting souls drop out, send those to me;
And when their sorrows are most excellent,
So full that one grief more cannot be added,
My Story like a torrent shall devour 'em.
Hark, it must out; but pray stand close together,
And let not all the world hear.

Leo. Speak it boldly.

Mer. And Royal Lady, think but charitably,
Your Grace has known my breeding.

Qu. Prethee speak it.

Mer. Is there no stranger here? send off your servants,
And yet it must be known: I shake.

Ag. Sweet Mistriss.

Mer. I am abus'd, basely abus'd; do you ghess yet?
Come close, I'll tell ye plainer; I am whor'd,
Ravish'd, and robb'd of Honour.

Leo. Oh the Devil.

Ag. What hellish Slave was this?

The. A wretch, a wretch,
A damned wretch: do you know the Villain, Lady?

Mer. No.

The. Not by ghess?

Mer. Oh no.

The. It must be known.

Qu. Where was the place?

Mer. I know not neither.

Ag. O Heaven,
Is this the happy time? my hope to this come?

Leo. Neither the man nor circumstances?

The. His tongue,
Did you not hear his tongue, no voice?

Mer. None, none Sir:
All I know of him was his violence.

Ag. How came ye hither, Sweet?

Mer. I know not neither.

The. A cunning piece of villany.

Mer. All I remember
Is only this: Going to Vestas Temple
To give the goddess my last Virgin prayers,
Near to that place I was suddainly surpriz'd,
By five or six disguis'd, and from thence violently
To my dishonour hal'd: that Act perform'd,
Brought back, but how, or whether, till I wak'd here.—

The. This is so monstrous, the gods cannot suffer it;
I have not read in all the villanies
Committed by the most obdurate Rascals,
An act so truly impious.

Leo. Would I knew him.

The. He must be known, the Devil cannot hide him.

Qu. If all the Art I have, or power can do it,
He shall be found, and such a way of justice
Inflicted on him: A Lady wrong'd in my Court,
And this way rob'd, and ruin'd?

The. Be contented Madam,
If he be above ground I will have him.

Ag. Fair virtuous Maid, take comfort yet and flourish,
In my love flourish: the stain was forc'd upon ye
None of your wills, nor yours; rise, and rise mine still,
And rise the same white, sweet, fair soul, I lov'd ye,
Take me the same.

Mer. I kneel and thank ye, Sir,
And I must say ye are truly honourable:
And dare confess my Will, yet still a Virgin;
But so unfit and weak a Cabinet
To keep your love and virtue in am I now,
That have been forc'd and broken, lost my lustre,
I mean this body, so corrupt a Volume
For you to study goodness in, and honor,
I shall intreat your Grace, confer that happiness
Upon a beauty sorrow never saw yet:
And when this grief shall kill me, as it must do,
Only remember yet ye had such a Mistriss;
And if ye then dare shed a tear, yet honour me:
Good Gentlemen, express your pities to me,
In seeking out this villany; and my last suit
Is to your Grace, that I may have your favour
To live a poor recluse Nun with this Lady,
From Court and company, till Heaven shall hear me,
And send me comfort, or death end my misery.

Qu. Take your own Will, my very heart bleeds for thee.

Ag. Farwell Merione, since I have not thee,
I'll wed thy goodness, and thy memory.

Leo. And I her fair revenge.

The. Away: let's follow it,
For he is so rank i'th' wind we cannot miss him. [Exeunt.

Cra. Conon, you are welcome home, ye are wondrous welcome,
Is this your first arrival?

Co. Sir, but now
I reacht the Town.

Cra. Y'are once more welcome then.

Co. I thank ye, noble Sir.

Cra. Pray ye do me the honor
To make my poor house first—

Con. Pray Sir excuse me,
I have not seen mine own yet; nor made happy
These longing eyes with those I love there: what's this a Tavern?

Cra. It seems so by the outside.

Co. Step in here then,
And since it offers it self so freely to us,
A place made only for liberal entertainment,
Let's seek no further, but make use of this,
And after the Greek fashion, to our friends
Crown a round cup or two.

Cra. Your pleasure, Sir.
Drawers, who waits within?

Draw. Anon, anon Sir.

Vint. Look into the Lilly-pot: why Mark there;
You are welcome Gentlemen; heartily welcome
My noble friend.

Cra. Let's have good Wine mine Host,
And a fine private room.

Vint. Will ye be there Sir?
What is't you'll drink? I'll draw your Wine my self:
Quissions ye knaves: why when?

Draw. Anon, anon Sir.

Vint. Chios, or Lebos, Greek?

Cra. Your best and neatest.

Vint. I'll draw ye that shall dance.

Cra. Away, be quick then. [Exit Vintner.

Con. How does your Brother, Sir, my noble friend
The good Euphanes? in all my course of travel
I met not with a Gentleman so furnish'd
In gentleness and courtesie; believe Sir,
So many friendly Offices I receiv'd from him,
So great, and timely, and enjoy'd his company
In such an open and a liberal sweetness,
That when I dare forget him—

Cra. He's in good health, Sir,
But you will find him a much alter'd man,
Grown a great Courtier, Sir.

Co. He's worthy of it.

Cra. A man drawn up, that leaves no print behind him
Of what he was: those goodnesses you speak of
That have been in him, those that you call freedoms,
Societies, and sweetness, look for now, Sir,
You'll find no shadows of them left, no sound,
The very Air he has liv'd in alter'd: now behold him,
And you shall see a thing walk by, look big upon ye,
And cry for place; I am the Queens, give room there:
If you bow low, may be he'll touch the Bonnet,
Or fling a forced smile at ye for a favour.

Co. He is your brother, Sir.

Cra. These forms put off,
Which travel, and Court Holy-water sprinkle on him,
I dare accept, and know him: you'll think it strange, Sir,
That even to me, to me his natural Brother,
And one by birth he owes a little honor too—

(But that's all one) come, give me some Wine, mine Host,
Here's to your fair return.

Con. I wonder at it,
But sure he has found a nature not worth owning
In this way; else I know he is tender carried.
I thank ye, Sir: and now durst I presume
For all you tell me of these alterations,
And stops in his sweet nature, which till I find so,
I have known him now so long, and look'd so through him,
You must give me leave to be a little faithless:
I say for all these, if you please to venture
I'll lay the Wine we drink, let me send for him
(Even I that am the poorest of his fellowship)
But by a Boy oth' house too, let him have business,
Let him attend the Queen, nay let his Mistriss
Hold him betwixt her arms, he shall come to me,
And shall drink with me too, love me, and heartily,
Like a true honest man bid me welcome home.
I am confident.

Cra. You will loose.

Con. You'l stand to th' wager?

Cra. With all my heart.

Con. Go Boy, and tell Euphanes.

Boy. He's now gone up the street Sir,
With a great train of Gallants.

Cra. What think you now Sir?

Con. Go, and overtake him,
Commend my love unto him: my name is Conon,
Tell him I am new arriv'd, and where I am,
And would request to see him presently:
Ye see I use old dudgen phrase to draw him.

Cra. I'll hang and quarter when you draw him hither.

Con. Away Boy.

Boy. I am gone Sir. [Exit.

Con. Here's to you now,
And you shall find his travel has not stopt him
As you suppose, nor alter'd any freedome,
But made him far more clear and excellent;
It draws the grossness off the understanding,
And renders active and industrious spirits:
He that knows most mens manners, must of necessity
Best know his own, and mend those by example:
'Tis a dull thing to travell like a Mill-horse,
Still in the place he was born in, lam'd and blinded;
Living at home is like it: pure and strong spirits
That like the fire still covet to fly upward,
And to give fire as well as take it; cas'd up, and mewd here
I mean at home, like lusty metled Horses,
Only ty'd up in Stables, to please their Masters,
Beat out their fiery lives in their own Litters,
Why do not you travel Sir?

Cra. I have no belief in't.
I see so many strange things, half unhatcht, to
Return, those that went out men, and good men,
They look like potch'd Eggs with the souls suckt out
Empty and full of wind: all their affections
Are bak'd in Rye crust, to hold carriage
From this good Town to th' other: and when they are open'd,
They are so ill cooked and mouldy—

Con. Ye are pleasant.

Cra. I'll shew ye a pack of these: I have 'em for ye,
That have been long in travel too.

Con. Please you Sir.

Cra. You know the Merchants walk, Boy?

2 Boy. Very well.

Cra. And you remember those Gentlemen were here
The other day with me?

2 Boy. Yes.

Cra. Then go thither,
For there I am sure they are, pray 'em come hither,
(And use my name) I would be glad to see 'em.

1 Boy. Your Brother's coming in Sir.

Vint. Odds my passion,
Out with the Plate ye knaves: bring the new Quishions,
And wash those Glasses I set by for high days,
Perfume the rooms along, why Sirrah.

1 Boy. Here Sir.

Vint. Bid my Wife make her self ready handsomly,
And put on her best Apron: it may be
The noble Gentleman will look upon her.

Euph. Where is he Boy?

Vint. Your worship's heartily welcome,
It joyes my very heart to see ye here Sir.
The Gentleman that sent for your honor—

Euph. O good mine Host.

Vint. To my poor homely house, and't like your honor.

Euph. I thank thine honor good mine Host, where is he?

Con. What think ye now? my best Euphanes.

Euph. Conon, welcome my friend, my noble friend how is it?
Are you in safety come, in health?

Con. All health, all safety,
Riches, and all that makes content and happiness
Now I am here I have: how have you far'd Sir?

Euph. Well, I thank Heaven, and never nearer friend
To catch at great occasion.

Con. Indeed I joy in't.

Euph. Nor am I for my self born in these fortunes.
In truth I love my friends.

Con. You were noble ever.

Cra. I thought you had not known me. [Euph. salutes Cra.

Euph. Yes, ye are my Brother,
My elder Brother too, would your affections
Were able but to ask that love I owe to ye,
And as I give, preserve it: here friend Conon,
To your fair welcome home.

Con. Dear Sir, I thank ye,
Fill it to th' brim, Boy: Crates.

Cra. I'll pledge you,
But for that glorious Comet lately fired.

Con. Fie, fie Sir, fie.

Euph. Nay, let him take his freedomes,
He stirs not me I vow to ye; much less stains me.

Cra. Sir, I cannot talk with that neat travelling tongue.

Con. As I live, he has the worst belief in men abroad.

I am glad I am come home.

2. Boy. Here are the Gentlemen.

Cra. O let 'em enter: now you that trust in travel,
And make sharp Beards, and little Breeches Deities,
You that inhaunce the daily price of Tooth-picks,
And hold there is no homebred happiness,
Behold a model of your minds and actions.

Euph. Though this be envious, yet done i'th' way of mirth,
I am content to thank ye for't.

Con. 'Tis well yet.

Cra. Let the Maske enter.

Onos. A pretty Taverne 'faith, of a fine structure.

Unc. Bear your self like a Gentleman, here's six pence,
And be sure you break no Glasses.

Tut. Hark ye Pupill,
Go as I taught you, hang more upon your hams,
And put your knees out bent: there, yet a little:
Now I beseech ye, be not so improvident
To forget your travelling pace, 'tis a main posture,
And to all unayr'd Gentlemen will betray you:
Play with your Pisa Beard: why, where's your brush Pupill?
He must have a Brush Sir.

Unc. More charge yet?

Tut. Here, take mine,
These elements of travel he must not want Sir.

Unc. Ma'foy, he has had some nineteen pence in elements,
What would you more?

Tut. Durus mehercle pater.

Con. What Monsieur Onos, the very pump of travell?
Sir, as I live you have done me the greatest kindnes,
O my fair Sir, Lampree, the careful Unkle
To this young hopeful issue; Monsieur Tutor too,
The father to his mind; [C]ome, come, let's hug Boyes,
Why what a bunch of travel do I embrace now,
Methinks I put a Girdle about Europe;
How has the boy profited?

Unc. He has enough Sir,
If his too fiery mettle do not mar it.

Con. Is he not thrifty yet?

Tut. That's all his fault,
Too bounteous minded being under age too,
A great consumer of his stock in Pippins,
Had ever a hot stomach.

Con. Come hither Onos,
Will you love me for this fine Apple?

Onos. We.

Con. And will ye be rul'd by me sometimes?

Onos. 'Faith I will.

Con. That's a good boy.

Unc. Pray give not the child so much fruit,
He's of a raw Complexion.

Euph. You Monsieur hard eg[g]e,
Do you remember me? Do you remember
When you and your Consort travell'd through Hungary?

Con. He's in that circuit still.

Euph. Do you remember
The cantell of immortal Cheese ye carried with ye,
The half cold [C]abbedge in a leather Sachell,
And those invincible Eggs that would lye in your bowells
A fortnight together, and then turn to bedstaves;
Your sowre milk that would choak an Irish man,
And bread was bak'd in Cæsars time for the Army?

Con. Providence, providence.

Tut. The soul of travel.

Euph. Can the boy speak yet?

Tut. Yes, and as fine a Gentleman,
I thank my able knowledge, he has arriv'd at,
Only a little sparing of his Language,
Which every man of observation—

Unc. And of as many tongues.

Tut. Pray be content Sir,
You know you are for the bodily part, the Purse,
I for the magazin, the mind.

Euph. Come hither springall.

On. That in the Almain Tongue signifies a Gentleman.

Euph. What think you of the forms of Italy or Spain?

Onos. I love mine own Countrey Pippin.

Tut. Nobly answer'd,
Born for his Countrey first.

Euph. A great Philosopher:
What Horses do you prefer?

Onos. The white horse Sir,
There where I lye; honest and a just beast.

Tut. O caput lepidum: a Child to say this,
Are these figures for the mouths of Infants?

Con. Onos, what wenches?
Come, tell me true.

On. I cannot speak without book.

Con. When shall we have one, ha?

On. Steal me from mine Unckle,
For look you, I am broke out horribly
For want of fleshly Physick: they say I am too young,
And that 'twill spoyle my growth but could you help me?

Con. Meet me to morrow man, no more.

Euph. You think now
Ye have open'd such a shame to me of travell,
By shewing these thin Cubs: ye have honour'd us
Against your will, proclaim'd us excellent:
Three Frails of Sprats carried from Mart, to Mart,
Are as much Meat as these, to more use travell'd;
A bunch of bloted fools: me thinks your judgment
Should look abroad sometimes without your envy.

Cra. Such are most of you: so I take my leave,
And when you find your Womens favor fail,
Tis ten to one you'l know your self, and seek me
Upon a better Muster of your manners.

Con. This is not handsome Sir.

Euph. Pray take your pleasure,
You wound the wind as much—

Cra. Come you with me,
I have business for you presently: there's for your Wine,
I must confess I lost it.

On. Shall I steal to ye
And shall we see the Wench?

Con. A dainty one.

On. And have a dish of Pippins?

Con. What a peck man.

Tut. Will you wait Sir.

Con. Pray let's meet oftner Gentlemen,
I would not lose ye.

Tut. O sweet Sir.

Con. Do you think I would,
Such noted men as you?

Onos, Unc. Tut. We are your Servants. [Exeunt.

Euph. That thing they would keep in everlasting nonage,
My brother for his own ends has thrust on
Upon my Mistriss, 'tis true, he shall be rich
If ever he can get that Rogue his Unkle
To let him be of years to come to inherit it,
Now what the main drift is—

Con. Say ye so? no more words,
I'll keep him company till he be of years,
Though it be a hundred years, but I'll discover it;
And ten to one I'll cross it too.

Euph. You are honest,
And I shall study still your love: farewell Sir,
For these few hours I must desire your pardon,
I have business of importance: once a day
At least I hope you'll see me: I must see you else:
So, once more ye are welcome.

Con. All my thanks Sir,
And when I leave to love you, life go from me. [Exeu[n]t.

Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima.

Scæna Secunda.

Scæna Tertia.

Scæna Quarta.

Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima.