Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima.
Enter the two Brothers.
Pas. Ha, ha, ha. [Within.
2 Bro. Hark, hark, how loud his fit's grown.
Pas. Ha, ha, ha.
1 Bro. Now let our Sister lose no time, but ply it
With all the power she has.
2 Bro. Her shame grows big, brother;
The Cupid's shape will hardly hold it longer,
'Twould take up half an Ell of China Damask more,
And all too little: it struts per'lously:
There is no tamp'ring with these Cupids longer,
The meer conceit with Woman-kind works strong.
Pas. Ha, ha, ha.
2 Bro. The laugh comes nearer now,
'Twere good we were not seen yet. [Ex. Bro.
Enter Passion, and Base, his jester.
Pas. Ha, ha, ha,
And was he bastinado'd to the life? ha, ha, ha.
I prethee say, Lord General, how did the rascals
Entrench themselves?
Base. Most deeply, politickly, all in ditches.
Pas. Ha, ha, ha.
Bas. 'Tis thought he'll ne'r bear Arms [ith'] field agen,
Has much ado to lift 'em to his head, Sir.
Pas. I would he had.
Bas. On either side round Truncheons plaid so thick,
That Shoulders, Chines, nay Flanks were paid to th' quick.
Pas. Well said Lord-General: ha, ha, ha.
Bas. But pray how grew the diff'rence first betwixt you?
Pas. There was never any, Sir; there lies the jest man;
Only because he was taller than his brother;
There's all my quarrel, to him; and methought
He should be beaten for't, my mind so gave me, Sir,
I could not sleep for't: Ha, ha, ha, ha.
Another good jest quickly, while 'tis hot now;
Let me not laugh in vain: ply me, oh ply me,
As you will answer't to my cosin Duke.
Bas. Alas, who has a good jest?
Pas. I fall, I dwindle in't.
Bas. Ten Crowns for a go[o]d jest: ha' you a good jest, Sir?
Enter Servant.
Serv. A pretty moral one.
Bas. Let's ha't, what e'er it be.
Serv. There comes a Cupid
Drawn by six fools.
Bas. That's nothing.
Pas. Help it, help it then.
Bas. I ha' known six hundred fools drawn by a Cupid.
Pas. I that, that, that's the smarter Moral: ha, ha, ha.
Now I begin to be Song-ripe methinks.
Bas. I'll sing you a pleasant Air Sir, before you ebb.
SONG.
Pas. Oh how my Lungs do tickle! ha, ha, ha.
Bas. Oh how my Lungs do tickle! oh, oh, ho, ho.
Pas. Sings.
Set a sharp Jest
Against my breast,
Then how my Lungs do tickle!
As Nightingales,
And things in Cambrick rails,
Sing best against a prickle,
Ha, ha, ha, ha.
Bas. Ho, ho, ho, ho, ha.
Pas. Laugh.
Bas. Laugh.
Pas. Laugh.
Bas. Laugh.
Pas. Wide.
Bas. Loud.
Pas. And vary.
Bas. A smile is for a simpering Novice.
Pas. One that ne'er tasted Caveare.
Bas. Nor knows the smack of dear Anchovis.
Pas. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha.
Bas. Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho.
Pas. A gigling waiting wench for me,
That shews her teeth how white they be.
Bas. A thing not fit for gravity,
For theirs are foul, and hardly three.
Pas. Ha, ha, ha.
Pas. Democritus, thou antient Fleerer,
How I miss thy laugh, and ha' since.
Bas. There you nam'd the famous Jeerer,
That ever jeer'd in Rome, or Athens.
Pas. Ha, ha, ha.
Bas. Ho, ho, ho.
Pas. How brave lives he that keeps a fool,
Although the rate be deeper!
[B]as. But he that is his own fool, Sir,
Does live a great deal cheaper.
Pas. Sure I shall burst, burst, quite break, thou art so witty.
Bas. 'Tis rare to break at Court, for that belongs to th' City.
Pas. Ha, ha, my spleen is almost worn to the last laughter.
Bas. Oh keep a corner for a friend, a jest may come hereafter.
Enter Lapet and Clown, and four other like fools, dancing,
the Cupid leading, and bearing his Table, and holding it
up to Lapet at every strain, and acting the postures.
Lap. Twinge all now, twinge I say.
2 Strain.
Souse upon Souse.
3 Strain.
Douses single.
4 Strain.
Justle sides.
5 Strain.
Knee Belly.
6 Strain.
Kicksee Buttock.
7 Strain.
La. Downderry.
Enter Soldier, Shamont's brother; his sword drawn.
Sol. Not angry Law, nor doors of Brass shall keep me,
From my wrongs expiation to thy Bowels,
I return my disgrace; and after turn
My face to any death that can be sentenc'd.
Base. Murder, oh murder, stop the murderer there—
Lap. I am glad he's gone; h'as almost trode my guts out;
Follow him who list for me, I'll ha' no hand in't.
Clo. Oh 'twas your luck and mine to be squelch'd, Mr.
H'as stamp'd my very Puddings into Pancakes.
Cup. Oh brothers, oh, I fear 'tis mortal: help, oh help,
I'm made the wretchedst woman by this accident,
That ever love beguil'd.
Enter two Brothers.
2 Bro. We are undone Brother,
Our shames are too apparent: Away receptacle
Of Luxury, and dishonor, most unfortunate,
To make thy self but lucky to thy spoil,
After thy Sexes manner: lift him up Brother;
He breaths not to our comfort, he's too wasted
Ever to cheer us more: A Chirurgeon speedily;
Hence; the unhappiest that e'er stept aside,
She'll be a Mother, before she's known a Bride.
Cup. Thou hadst a most unfortunate conception,
What e'er thou prov'st to be; in midst of mirth
Comes ruine, for a welcome, to thy birth. [Exeunt.
Scæna Secunda.
Enter Shamont.
Sham. This is a beautiful life now; privacy
The sweetness and the benefit of Essence:
I see there is no man, but may make his Paradice;
And it is nothing but his love, and dotage
Upon the worlds foul joyes, that keeps him out on't:
For he that lives retir'd in mind, and spirit,
Is still in Paradice, and has his innocence,
Partly allow'd for his companion too,
As much as stands with justice: here no eyes
Shoot their sharp pointed scorns upon my shame;
They know no terms of reputation here,
No punctual limits, or precise dimensions:
Plain down-right honesty is all the beauty
And elegancy of life, found amongst Shepheards;
For knowing nothing nicely, or desiring it,
Quits many a vexation from the mind,
With which our quainter knowledge does abuse us;
The name of envy is a stranger here,
That dries mens blouds abroad, robs Health and Rest,
Why here's no such fury thought on: no, nor falshood,
That brotherly disease, fellow-like devil,
That plays within our bosom, and betrays us.
Enter 1 Gent.
1 Gent. Oh are you here?
Sham. La Nove, 'tis strange to see thee.
1 Gent. I ha' rid one horse to death,
To find you out, Sir.
Sham. I am not to be found of any man
That saw my shame, nor seen long.
1 Gent. Good, your attention:
You ought to be seen now, and found out, Sir,
If ever you desire before your ending
To perform one good office, nay, a dear one,
Mans time can hardly match it.
Sham. Be't as precious
As reputation; if it come from Court
I will not hear on't.
1 Gent. You must hear of this, Sir.
Sham. Must?
1 Gent. You shall hear it.
Sham. I love thee, that thou'lt dye.
1 Gent. 'Twere nobler in me,
Than in you living: you will live a murderer,
If you deny this office.
Sham. Even to death, Sir.
1 Gent. Why then you'll kill your brother.
Sham. How?
1 Gent. Your Brother, Sir:
Bear witness heaven, this man destroys his Brother
When he may save him, his least breath may save him:
Can there be wilfuller destruction?
He was forc'd to take a most unmanly wrong,
Above the suff'ring virtue of a Soldier,
Has kill'd his injurer, a work of honor;
For which, unless you save him, he dies speedily
My conscience is discharg'd, I'm but a friend,
A Brother should go forward where I end. [Exit.
Sham. Dyes?
Say he be naught, that's nothing to my goodness,
Which ought to shine through use, or else it loses
The glorious name 'tis known by: he's my brother;
Yet peace is above bloud: Let him go; I,
But where's the nobleness of affection then?
That must be car'd for too, or I'm imperfect,
The same bloud that stood up in wrath against him,
Now in his misery, runs all to pity;
I'd rather dye than speak one syllable
To save my self, but living as I am,
There's no avoiding on't, the worlds humanity
Expects it hourly from me: curse of fortune,
I took my leave so well too: Let him dye,
'Tis but a brother lost; so pleasingly,
And swiftly I came off, 'twere more than irksomness,
To tread that path agen; and I shall never
Depart so handsomely: but then where's posterity?
The consummation of our house and name?
I'm torn in pieces betwixt love and shame. [Exit.
Scæna Tertia.
Enter Lapet, Clown, Poultrot, Moulbazon, and
others, the new Court Officers.
Lap. Good morrow fellow Poltrot, and Moulbazon,
Good morrow fellows all.
Pol. Monsieur Lapet?
Lap. Look, I've remembred you, here's books apiece for you.
Moul. Oh Sir, we dearly thank you.
Lap. So you may:
There's two impressions gone already, Sirs.
Pol. What no? in so short a time?
Lap. 'Tis as I tell you, Sir.
My Kick sells gallantly, I thank my stars.
Clow. So does your Table; you may thank the Moon too.
Lap. 'Tis the Book sells the Table.
Clow. But 'tis the Bookseller
That has the money for 'em, I'm sure o' that.
Lap. 'Twill much enrich the Company of Stationers,
'Tis thought 'twill prove a lasting benefit,
Like the Wise Masters, and the Almanacks,
The hundred Novels, and the Book of Cookery,
For they begin already to engross it,
And make it a Stock-book, thinking indeed
'Twill prove too great a benefit, and help,
For one that's new set up: they know their way,
And make him Warden, e'r his beard be gray.
Moul. Is't possible such virtue should lye hid,
And in so little Paper?
Lap. How? why there was the Carpenter,
An unknown thing; an odoriferous Pamphlet,
Yet no more Paper, by all computation,
Than Ajax Telamon would use at once,
Your Herring prov'd the like, able to buy
Another Fishers Folly, and your Pasquil
Went not below the mad-caps of that time,
And shall my elaborate Kick come behind, think you?
Clow. Yes, it must come behind, 'tis in Italica too,
According to your humor.
Lap. Not in sale, Varlet.
Clow. In sale, Sir? it shall sail beyond 'em all I tro.
Lap. What have you there now? oh Page 21.
Clow. That Page is come to his years, he should be a Serving man.
Lap. Mark how I snap up the Duello there:
One would not use a dog so,
I must needs say; but's for the common good.
Clow. Nay Sir, your Commons seldom fight at sharp,
But buffet in a Warehouse.
Lap. This will save
Many a Gentleman of good bloud from bleeding, Sirs,
I have a curse from many a Barber-Surgeon;
They'd give but too much money to call't in;
Turn to Page 45. see what you find there.
Clow. Oh, out upon him,
Page 45. that's an old thief indeed.
Enter Duke, the Lady his Sister, 1 Gent.
Lap. The Duke, clap down your Books; away Galoshio.
Clow. Indeed I am too foul to be i' th' presence,
They use to shake me off at the chamber door still. [Ex.
Lady. Good my Lord, grant my suit: let me not rise
Without the comfort on't: I have not often
Been tedious in this kind.
Duke. Sister, you wrong your self,
And those great virtues that your Fame is made of,
To waste so much breath for a murderers life.
Lad. You cannot hate th' offence more than I do, Sir,
Nor the offender, the respect I owe
Unto his absent brother, makes me a suitor,
A most importunate Sister, make me worthy
But of this one request.
Duke. I am deaf
To any importunacy, and sorry
For your forgetfulness; you never injur'd
Your worth so much, you ought to be rebuk'd for't:
Pursue good ways, end as you did begin,
'Tis half the guilt to speak for such a sin.
La. This is loves beggery right, that now is ours,
When Ladies love, and cannot shew their powers. [Ex.
Du. La Nove?
1 Gent. My Lord.
Duke. Are these our new Attendants?
Lap. We are my Lord, and will endure as much
As better men, my Lord, and more I trust.
Duke. What's he?
1 Gent. My Lord, a decay'd Gentleman,
That will do any service.
Duke. A decay'd one?
1 Gent. A renounc'd one indeed: for this place only.
Duke. We renounce him then; go, discharge him instantly.
He that disclaims his gentry for meer gains,
That man's too base to make a vassal on.
Lap. What says the Duke?
1 [Gent.] Faith little to your comfort, Sir,
You must be a Gentleman agen.
Lap. How?
1 Gent. There's no remedy.
Lap. Marry, the fates forefend: ne'r while I breathe, Sir.
1 Gent. The Duke will have it so, there's no resisting,
He spy'd it i' your forehead.
Lap. My wife's doing.
She thought she should be put below her betters now,
And su'd to ha' me a Gentleman agen.
1 Gent. And very likely, Sir,
Marry, I'll give you this comfort when all's done,
You'll never pass but for a scurvy one,
That's all the help you have: come shew your pace.
Lap. The heaviest Gentleman that e'er lost place;
Bear witness, I am forc'd to't. [Exit.
Duke. Though you have a courser Title yet upon you,
Than those that left your places, without blame,
'Tis in your power to make your selves the same:
I cannot make you Gentlemen, that's a work
Rais'd from your own deservings, merit, manners,
And in-born virtue does it. Let your own goodness
Make you so great, my power shall make you greater;
And more t'encourage you, this I add agen,
There's many Grooms, now exact Gentlemen.
Enter Shamont.
Sham. Methinks 'tis strange to me to enter here:
Is there in nature such an awful power,
To force me to this place? and make me do this?
Is mans affection stronger than his Will?
His resolution? was I not resolv'd
Never to see this place more? Do I bear
Within my breast one bloud that confounds th' other?
The bloud of Love, and Will, and the last weakest?
Had I ten Millions, I would give it all now,
I were but past it, or 'twould never come;
For I shall never do't, or not do't well,
But spoil it utterly betwixt two passions,
Yonder's the Duke himself, I will not do't now,
Had twenty lives their several sufferings in him. [Exit.
Duke. Who's that went out now?
Pol. I saw none my Lord.
Duke. Nor you?
Moul. I saw the glimpse of one my Lord.
Duke. What e'er it was, methought it pleas'd me strangely
And suddenly my joy was ready for't.
Did you not mark it better?
Pol. & Moul. Troth my Lord,
We gave no great heed to't.
Enter Shamont.
Sham. 'Twill not be answer'd,
It brings me hither still; by main force hither:
Either I must give over to profess humanity,
Or I must speak for him.
Duke. 'Tis here agen:
No marvel 'twas so pleasing, 'tis delight
And worth it self, now it appears unclouded.
Sham. My Lord—
He turns away from me: by this hand
I am ill-us'd of all sides: 'tis a fault
That fortune ever had t'abuse a goodness.
Duke. Methought you were saying somewhat.
Sham. Mark the Language,
As coy as fate; I see 'twill ne'er be granted.
Duke. We little look'd in troth to see you here yet.
Sham. Not till the day after my brother's death, I think.
Duke. Sure some great business drew you.
Sham. No insooth, Sir,
Only to come to see a brother dye, Sir,
That I may learn to go too; and if he deceive me not,
I think he will do well in't of a soldier,
Manly, and honestly: and if he weep then,
I shall not think the worse on's manhood for't,
Because he's leaving of that part that has it.
Duke. Has slain a noble Gentleman, think on't, Sir.
Sham. I would I could not, Sir.
Duke. Our kinsman too.
Sham. All this is but worse, Sir.
Duke. When 'tis at worst,
Yet seeing thee, he lives.
Sham. My Lord—
Duke. He lives,
Believe it as thy bliss, he dies not for't:
Will this make satisfaction for things past?
Sham. Oh my Lord—
Duke. Will it? speak.
Sham. With greater shame to my unworthiness.
Duke. Rise then, we're even: I never found it harder
To keep just with a man: my great work's ended.
I knew your brother's pardon was your suit, Sir.
How ever your nice modesty held it back.
Sham. I take a joy now, to confess it, Sir.
Enter 1 Gent.
1 Gent. My Lord—
Duke. Hear me first, Sir, what e'er your news be:
Set free the Soldier instantly.
1 Gent. 'Tis done, my Lord.
Duke. How?
1 Gent. In effect: 'twas part of my news too,
There's fair hope of your noble kinsman's life, Sir.
Duke. What sayst thou?
1 Gent. And the most admired change
That living flesh e'r had; he's not the man my Lord;
Death cannot be more free from passions, Sir,
Than he is at this instant: he's so meek now,
He makes those seem passionate, was never thought of:
And for he fears his moods have oft disturb'd you, Sir,
He's only hasty now for his forgiveness,
And here behold him, Sir.
Enter Passion, the Cupid, and two Brothers.
Duke. Let me give thanks first: our worthy Cosin—
Pas. Your unworthy trouble, Sir;
For which, with all acknowledg'd reverence,
I ask your pardon; and for injury
More known and wilful, I have chose a wife,
Without your counsel, or consent, my Lord.
Duke. A wife? where is she, Sir?
Pas. This noble Gentlewoman.
Duke. How?
Pas. Whose honor my forgetful times much wrong'd.
Duke. He's madder than he was.
1 Gent. I would ha' sworn for him.
Duke. The Cupid, Cosin?
Pas. Yes, this worthy Lady, Sir.
Duke. Still worse and worse.
1 Bro. Our Sister under pardon, my Lord.
Duke. What?
2 Bro. Which shape Love taught her to assume.
Duke. Is't truth then?
1 Gent. It appears plainly now, below the waste, my Lord.
Duke. Shamont, didst ever read of a She-Cupid?
Sham. Never in fiction yet: but it might hold, Sir;
For desire is of both Genders.
Enter the Dukes Sister.
Duke. Make that good here: [He joyns Shamont's hand
I take thee at thy word, Sir. [and his Sisters.
Sham. Oh my Lord,
Love would appear too bold, and rude from me,
Honour and admiration are her rights,
Her goodness is my Saint, my Lord.
Duke. I see,
Y'are both too modest to bestow your selves:
I'll save that virtue still, 'tis but my pains: come,
It shall be so.
Sham. This gift does but set forth my poverty.
La. Sir, that which you complain of, is my riches.
Enter Shamont's brother the Soldier.
Duke. Soldier, now every noise sounds peace, th'art welcome.
Sol. Sir, my repentance sues for your blest favour,
Which once obtain'd, no injury shall lose it;
I'll suffer mightier wrongs.
Duke. Rise, lov'd and pardon'd:
For where Hope fail'd, nay Art it self resign'd,
Thou'st wrought that cure, which skill could never find;
Nor did there cease, but to our peace extend;
Never could wrongs boast of a nobler end. [Exeunt.