Enter BeaumelyBeau.Hows this seruant,Courting my woman?Bell.As an entrance toThe fauour of the mistris: you are together[55]And I am perfect in my qu.Beau.StayBellapert.Bell.In this I must not with your leaue obey you.Your Taylor and your Tire-woman waite withoutAnd stay my counsayle, and direction forYour next dayes dressing. I haue much to doe,[60]Nor will your Ladiship know, time is precious,Continue idle: this choise Lord will findeSo fit imployment for you.Exit Bellap.Beau.I shall grow angry.Nou.Not so, you haue a iewell in her, Madam.Enter againe.Bell.I had forgot to tell your Ladiship[65]The closet is priuate and your couch ready:And if you please that I shall loose the key,But say so, and tis done.Exit Bellap.Baum.You come to chide me, seruant, and bring with youSufficient warrant, you will say and truely,[70]My father found too much obedience in me,By being won too soone: yet if you pleaseBut to remember, all my hopes and fortunesHad reuerence to this likening: you will grantThat though I did not well towards you, I yet[75]Did wisely for my selfe.Nou.With too much feruorI haue so long lou’d and still loue you, Mistresse,To esteeme that an iniury to meWhich was to you conuenient: that is pastMy helpe, is past my cure. You yet may, Lady,[80]In recompence of all my dutious seruice,(Prouided that your will answere your power)Become my Creditresse.Beau.I vnderstand you,And for assurance, the request you makeShall not be long vnanswered. Pray you sit,[85]And by what you shall heare, you’l easily finde,My passions are much fitter to desire,Then to be sued to.Enter Romont and Florimell.Flor.Sir, tis not enuyAt the start my fellow has got of me inMy Ladies good opinion, thats the motiue[90]Of this discouery; but due paymentOf what I owe her Honour.Rom.So I conceiue it.Flo.I haue obserued too much, nor shall my silencePreuent the remedy—yonder they are,I dare not bee seene with you. You may doe[95]What you thinke fit, which wil be, I presume,The office of a faithfull and tryed friendTo my young Lord.Exit Flori.Rom.This is no vision: ha!Nou.With the next opportunity.Beau.By this kisse,And this, and this.Nou.That you would euer sweare thus.[100]Rom.If I seeme rude, your pardon, Lady; yoursI do not aske: come, do not dare to shew meeA face of anger, or the least dislike.Put on, and suddaily a milder looke,I shall grow rough else.Nou.What haue I done, Sir,[105]To draw this harsh vnsauory language from you?Rom.Done, Popinjay? why, dost thou thinke that ifI ere had dreamt that thou hadst done me wrong,Thou shouldest outliue it?Beau.This is something moreThen my Lords friendship giues commission for.[110]Nou.Your presence and the place, makes him presumeVpon my patience.Rom.As if thou ere wer’t angryBut with thy Taylor, and yet that poore shredCan bring more to the making vp of a man,Then can be hop’d from thee: thou art his creature,[115]And did hee not each morning new create [thee]Thou wouldst stinke and be forgotten. Ile not changeOn syllable more with thee, vntill thou bringSome testimony vnder good mens hands,Thou art a Christian. I suspect thee strongly,[120]And wilbe satisfied: till which time, keepe from me.The entertaiment of your visitationHas made what I intended on a businesse.Nou.So wee shall meete—Madam.Rom.Vse that legge again,And Ile cut off the other.Nou.Very good.[125]Exit Nouall.Rom.What a perfume the Muske-cat leaues behind him!Do you admit him for a property,To saue you charges, Lady.Beau.Tis not vselesse,Now you are to succeed him.Rom.So I respect you,Not for your selfe, but in remembrance of,[130]Who is your father, and whose wife you now are,That I choose rather not to vnderstandYour nasty scoffe then,—Beau.What, you will not beate mee,If I expound it to you. Heer’s a TyrantSpares neyther man nor woman.Rom.My intents[135]Madam, deserue not this; nor do I stayTo be the whetstone of your wit: preserue itTo spend on such, as know how to admireSuch coloured stuffe. In me there is now speaks to youAs true a friend and seruant to your Honour,[140]And one that will with as much hazzard guard it,As euer man did goodnesse.—But then Lady,You must endeauour not alone to bee,But to appeare worthy such loue and seruice.Beau.To what tends this?Rom.Why, to this purpose, Lady,[145]I do desire you should proue such a wifeToCharaloys(and such a one hee merits)As Caesar, did hee liue, could not except at,Not onely innocent from crime, but freeFrom all taynt and suspition.Beau.They are base[150]That iudge me otherwise.Rom.But yet bee carefull.Detraction’s a bold monster, and feares notTo wound the fame of Princes, if it findBut any blemish in their liues to worke on.But Ile bee plainer with you: had the people[155]Bin learnd to speake, but what euen now I saw,Their malice out of that would raise an engineTo ouerthrow your honor. In my fight(With yonder pointed foole I frighted from you)You vs’d familiarity beyond[160]A modest entertaynment: you embrac’d himWith too much ardor for a stranger, andMet him with kisses neyther chaste nor comely:But learne you to forget him, as I willYour bounties to him, you will find it safer[165]Rather to be vncourtly, then immodest.Beau.This prety rag about your necke shews well,And being coorse and little worth, it speakes you,As terrible as thrifty.Rom.Madam.Beau.Yes.And this strong belt in which you hang your honor[170]Will out-last twenty scarfs.Rom.What meane you, Lady?Beau.And all else about you Cap a peSo vniforme in spite of handsomnesse,Shews such a bold contempt of comelinesse,That tis not strange your Laundresse in the League,[175]Grew mad with loue of you.Rom.Is my free counsayleAnswerd with this ridiculous scorne?Beau.These obiectsStole very much of my attention from me,Yet something I remember, to speake truth,Deceyued grauely, but to little purpose,[180]That almost would haue made me sweare, some CurateHad stolne into the person ofRomont,And in the praise of goodwife honesty,Had read an homely.Rom.By thy hand.Beau.And sword,I will make vp your oath, twill want weight else.[185]You are angry with me, and poore I laugh at it.Do you come from the Campe, which affords onelyThe conuersation of cast suburbe whores,To set downe to a Lady of my ranke,Lymits of entertainment?[190]Rom.Sure a Legion has possest this woman.Beau.One stampe more would do well: yet I desire notYou should grow horne-mad, till you haue a wife.You are come to warme meate, and perhaps cleane linnen:Feed, weare it, and bee thankefull. For me, know,[195]That though a thousand watches were set on mee,And you the Master-spy, I yet would vse,The liberty that best likes mee. I will reuell,Feast, kisse, imbreace, perhaps grant larger fauours:Yet such as liue vpon my meanes, shall know[200]They must not murmur at it. If my LordBee now growne yellow, and has chose out youTo serue his Iealouzy that way, tell him this,You haue something to informe him:Exit Beau.Rom.And I will.Beleeue it wicked one I will. Heare, Heauen,[205]But hearing pardon mee: if these fruts growVpon the tree of marriage, let me shun it,As a forbidden sweete. An heyre and rich,Young, beautifull, yet adde to this a wife,And I will rather choose a Spittle sinner[210]Carted an age before, though three parts rotten,And take it for a blessing, rather thenBe fettered to the hellish slaueryOf such an impudence.Enter Baumont with writings.Bau.Collonell, good fortuneTo meet you thus: you looke sad, but Ile tell you[215]Something that shall remoue it. Oh how happyIs my LordCharaloysin his faire bride!Rom.A happy man indeede!—pray you in what?Bau.I dare sweare, you would thinke so good a Lady,A dower sufficient.Rom.No doubt. But on.[220]Bau.So faire, so chaste, so vertuous: so indeedAll that is excellent.Rom.Women haue no cunningTo gull the world.Bau.Yet to all these, my LordHer father giues the full addition ofAll he does now possesse inBurgundy:[225]These writings to confirme it, are new seal’dAnd I most fortunate to present him with them,I must goe seeke him out, can you direct mee?Rom.You’l finde him breaking a young horse.Bau.I thanke you.Exit Baumont.Rom.I must do something worthyCharaloysfriendship.[230]If she were well inclin’d to keepe her so,Deseru’d not thankes: and yet to stay a womanSpur’d headlong by hot lust, to her owne ruine,Is harder then to prop a falling towreWith a deceiuing reed.Enter Rochfort.Roch.Some one seeke for me,[235]As soone as he returnes.Rom.Her father! ha?How if I breake this to him? sure it cannotMeete with an ill construction. His wisedomeMade powerfull by the authority of a father,Will warrant and giue priuiledge to his counsailes.[240]It shall be so—my Lord.Roch.Your friendRomont:Would you ought with me?Rom.I stand so engag’dTo your so many fauours, that I hold itA breach in thankfulnesse, should I not discouer,Though with some imputation to my selfe,[245]All doubts that may concerne you.Roch.The performanceWill make this protestation worth my thanks.Rom.Then with your patience lend me your attentionFor what I must deliuer, whispered onelyYou will with too much griefe receiue.Enter Beaumelle, Bellapert.Beau.See wench![250]Vpon my life as I forespake, hee’s nowPreferring his complaint: but be thou perfect,And we will fit him.Bell.Feare not mee, pox on him:A Captaine turne Informer against kissing?Would he were hang’d vp in his rusty Armour:[255]But if our fresh wits cannot turne the plotsOf such a mouldy murrion on it selfe;Rich cloathes, choyse faire, and a true friend at a call,With all the pleasures the night yeelds, forsake vs.Roch.This in my daughter? doe not wrong her.Bell.Now.[260]Begin. The games afoot, and wee in distance.Beau.Tis thy fault, foolish girle, pinne on my vaile,I will not weare those iewels. Am I notAlready matcht beyond my hopes? yet stillYou prune and set me forth, as if I were[265]Againe to please a suyter.Bell.Tis the courseThat our great Ladies take.Rom.A weake excuse.Beau.Those that are better seene, in what concernesA Ladies honour and faire same, condemne it.You waite well, in your absence, my Lords friend[270]The vnderstanding, graue and wiseRomont.Rom.Must I be still her sport?Beau.Reproue me for it.And he has traueld to bring home a iudgementNot to be contradicted. You will sayMy father, that owes more to yeeres then he,[275]Has brought me vp to musique, language, Courtship,And I must vse them. True, but not t’offend,Or render me suspected.Roch.Does your fine storyBegin from this?Beau.I thought a parting kisseFrom youngNouall, would haue displeasd no more[280]Then heretofore it hath done; but I findeI must restrayne such fauours now; looke thereforeAs you are carefull to continue mine,That I no more be visited. Ile endureThe strictest course of life that iealousie[285]Can thinke secure enough, ere my behauiourShall call my fame in question.Rom.Ten dissemblersAre in this subtile deuill. You beleeue this?Roch.So farre that if you trouble me againeWith a report like this, I shall not onely[290]Iudge you malicious in your disposition,But study to repent what I haue doneTo such a nature.Rom.Why, ’tis exceeding well.Roch.And for you, daughter, off with this, off with it:I haue that confidence in your goodnesse, I,[295]That I will not consent to haue you liueLike to a Recluse in a cloyster: goeCall in the gallants, let them make you merry,Vse all fit liberty.Bell.Blessing on you.If this new preacher with the sword and feather[300]Could proue his doctrine for Canonicall,We should haue a fine world.Exit Bellapert.Roch.Sir, if you pleaseTo beare your selfe as fits a Gentleman,The house is at your seruice: but if not,Though you seeke company else where, your absence[305]Will not be much lamented—Exit Rochfort.Rom.If this beThe recompence of striuing to preserueA wanton gigglet honest, very shortly’Twill make all mankinde Panders—Do you smile,Good Lady Loosenes? your whole sex is like you,[310]And that man’s mad that seekes to better any:What new change haue you next?Beau.Oh, feare not you, sir,Ile shift into a thousand, but I willConuert your heresie.Rom.What heresie? Speake.Beau.Of keeping a Lady that is married,[315]From entertayning seruants.—Enter Nouall Iu.Malatine,Liladam,Aymer,Pontalier.O, you are welcome,Vae any meanes to vexe him,And then with welcome follow me.Exit BeauNou.You are tyr’dWith your graue exhortations, Collonell.Lilad.How is it? Fayth, your Lordship may doe well,[320]To helpe him to some Church-preferment: ’tisNow the fashion, for men of all conditions,How euer they haue liu’d; to end that way.Aym.That face would doe well in a surplesse.Rom.Rogues,Be silent—or—Pont.S’death will you suffer this?[325]Rom.And you, the master Rogue, the coward rascall,I shall be with you suddenly.Nou.Pontallier,If I should strike him, I know I shall kill him:And therefore I would haue thee beate him, forHee’s good for nothing else.Lilad.His backe[330]Appeares to me, as it would tire a Beadle,And then he has a knotted brow, would bruiseA courtlike hand to touch it.Aym.Hee lookes likeA Curryer when his hides grown deare.Pont.Take heedeHe curry not some of you.Nou.Gods me, hee’s angry.[335]Rom.I breake no Iests, but I can breake my swordAbout your pates.Enter Charaloyes and Baumont.Lilad.Heeres more.Aym.Come let’s bee gone,Wee are beleaguerd.Nou.Looke they bring vp their troups.Pont.Will you sit downeWith this disgrace? You are abus’d most grosely.[340]Lilad.I grant you, Sir, we are, and you would haue vsStay and be more abus’d.Nou.My Lord, I am sorry,Your house is so inhospitable, we must quit it.Exeunt. Manent. Char. Rom.Cha.PretheeRomont, what caus’d this vprore?Rom.Nothing.They laugh’d and vs’d their scuruy wits vpon mee.[345]Char.Come, tis thy Iealous nature: but I wonderThat you which are an honest man and worthy,Should softer this suspition: no man laughes;No one can whisper, but thou apprehend’stHis conference and his scorne reflects on thee:[350]For my part they should scoffe their thin wits out,So I not heard ’em, beate me, not being there.Leaue, leaue these fits, to conscious men, to suchAs are obnoxious, to those foolish thingsAs they can gibe at.Rom.Well, Sir.Char.Thou art know’n[355]Valiant without detect, right defin’dWhich is (as fearing to doe iniury,As tender to endure it) not a brabbler,A swearer.Rom.Pish, pish, what needs this my Lord?If I be knowne none such, how vainly, you[360]Do cast away good counsaile? I haue lou’d you,And yet must freely speake; so young a tutor,Fits not so old a Souldier as I am.And I must tell you, t’was in your behalfeI grew inraged thus, yet had rather dye,[365]Then open the great cause a syllable further.Cha.In my behalfe? wherein hathCharaloisVnfitly so demean’d himselfe, to giueThe least occasion to the loosest tongue,To throw aspersions on him, or so weakely[370]Protected his owne honor, as it shouldNeed a defence from any but himselfe?They are fools that iudge me by my outward seeming,Why should my gentlenesse beget abuse?The Lion is not angry that does sleepe[375]Nor euery man a Coward that can weepe.For Gods sake speake the cause.Rom.Not for the world.Oh it will strike disease into your bonesBeyond the cure of physicke, drinke your blood,Rob you of all your rest, contract your sight,[380]Leaue you no eyes but to see misery,And of your owne, nor speach but to wish thusWould I had perish’d in the prisons iawes:From whence I was redeem’d! twill weare you old,Before you haue experience in that Art,[385]That causes your affliction.Cha.Thou dost strikeA deathfull coldnesse to my hearts high heate,And shrinkst my liuer like theCalenture.Declare this foe of mine, and lifes, that likeA man I may encounter and subdue it[390]It shall not haue one such effect in mee,As thou denouncest: with a Souldiers arme,If it be strength, Ile meet it: if a faultBelonging to my mind, Ile cut it offWith mine owne reason, as a Scholler should[395]Speake, though it make mee monstrous.Rom.Ile dye first.Farewell, continue merry, and high HeauenKeepe your wife chaste.Char.Hump, stay and take this wolfeOut of my brest, that thou hast lodg’d there, orFor euer lose mee.Rom.Lose not, Sir, your selfe.[400]And I will venture—So the dore is fast.(Locke the dore.Now nobleCharaloys, collect your selfe,Summon your spirits, muster all your strengthThat can belong to man, sift passion,From euery veine, and whatsoeuer ensues,[405]Vpbraid not me heereafter, as the cause ofIealousy, discontent, slaughter and ruine:Make me not parent to sinne: you will knowThis secret that I burne with.Char.Diuell on’t,What should it be?Romont, I heare you wish[410]My wifes continuance of Chastity.Rom.There was no hurt in that.Char.Why? do you knowA likelyhood or possibility vnto the contrarie?Rom.I know it not, but doubt it, these the groundsThe seruant of your wife now youngNouall,[415]The sonne vnto your fathers Enemy(Which aggrauates my presumption the more)I haue been warnd of, touching her, nay, seene themTye heart to heart, one in anothers armes,Multiplying kisses, as if they meant[420]To pose Arithmeticke, or whose eyes wouldBee first burnt out, with gazing on the others.I saw their mouthes engender, and their palmesGlew’d, as if Loue had lockt them, their words flowAnd melt each others, like two circling flames,[425]Where chastity, like a Phoenix (me thought) burn’d,But left the world nor ashes, nor an heire.Why stand you silent thus? what cold dull flegme,As if you had no drop of choller mixtIn your whole constitution, thus preuailes,[430]To fix you now, thus stupid hearing this?Cha.You did not see ’em on my Couch within,Like George a horse-backe on her, nor a bed?Rom.Noe.Cha.Ha, ha.Rom.Laugh yee? eene so did your wife,And her indulgent father.Cha.They were wife.[435]Wouldst ha me be a foole?Rom.No, but a man.Cha.There is no dramme of manhood to suspect,On such thin ayrie circumstance as thisMeere complement and courtship. Was this taleThe hydeous monster which you so conceal’d?[440]Away, thou curious impertinentAnd idle searcher of such leane nice toyes.Goe, thou sedicious sower of debate:Fly to such matches, where the bridegroome doubts:He holds not worth enough to counteruaile[445]The vertue and the beauty of his wife.Thou buzzing drone that ’bout my eares dost hum,To strike thy rankling sting into my heart,Whose vemon, time, nor medicine could asswage.Thus doe I put thee off, and confident[450]In mine owne innocency, and desert,Dare not conceiue her so vnreasonable,To putNouallin ballance against me,An vpstart cran’d vp to the height he has.Hence busiebody, thou’rt no friend to me,[455]That must be kept to a wiues iniury,Rom.Ist possible? farewell, fine, honest man,Sweet temper’d Lord adieu: what ApoplexyHath knit fence vp? Is thisRomontsreward?Beare witnes the great spirit of my father,[460]With what a healthfull hope I administerThis potion that hath wrought so virulently,I not accuse thy wife of act, but wouldPreuent herPraecipuce, to thy dishonour,Which now thy tardy sluggishnesse will admit.[465]Would I had seene thee grau’d with thy great Sire,Ere liue to haue mens marginall fingers pointAt Charaloys, as a lamented story.An Emperour put away his wife for touchingAnother man, but thou wouldst haue thine tasted[470]And keepe her (I thinke.) Puffe. I am a fireTo warme a dead man, that waste out myselfe.Bleed—what a plague, a vengeance i’st to mee,If you will be a Cuckold? Heere I shewA swords point to thee, this side you may shun,[475]Or that: the perrill, if you will runne on,I cannot helpe it.Cha.Didst thou neuer see meAngry,Romont?Rom.Yes, and pursue a foeLike lighteningChar.Prethee see me so no more.I can be so againe. Put vp thy sword,[480]And take thy selfe away, lest I draw mine.Rom.Come fright your foes with this: sir, I am your friend,And dare stand by you thus.Char.Thou art not my friend,Or being so, thou art mad, I must not buyThy friendship at this rate; had I iust cause,[485]Thou knowst I durst pursue such iniuryThrough fire, ayre, water, earth, nay, were they allShuffled againe toChaos, but ther’s none.Thy skill,Romont, consists in camps, not courts.Farewell, vnciuill man, let’s meet no more.[490]Heere our long web of friendship I vntwist.Shall I goe whine, walke pale, and locke my wifeFor nothing, from her births free liberty,That open’d mine to me? yes; if I doeThe name of cuckold then, dog me with scorne.[495]I am aFrenchman, noItalianborne.
Enter Beaumely
Beau.Hows this seruant,Courting my woman?
Bell.As an entrance toThe fauour of the mistris: you are together[55]And I am perfect in my qu.
Beau.StayBellapert.
Bell.In this I must not with your leaue obey you.Your Taylor and your Tire-woman waite withoutAnd stay my counsayle, and direction forYour next dayes dressing. I haue much to doe,[60]Nor will your Ladiship know, time is precious,Continue idle: this choise Lord will findeSo fit imployment for you.
Exit Bellap.
Beau.I shall grow angry.
Nou.Not so, you haue a iewell in her, Madam.
Enter againe.
Bell.I had forgot to tell your Ladiship[65]The closet is priuate and your couch ready:And if you please that I shall loose the key,But say so, and tis done.
Exit Bellap.
Baum.You come to chide me, seruant, and bring with youSufficient warrant, you will say and truely,[70]My father found too much obedience in me,By being won too soone: yet if you pleaseBut to remember, all my hopes and fortunesHad reuerence to this likening: you will grantThat though I did not well towards you, I yet[75]Did wisely for my selfe.
Nou.With too much feruorI haue so long lou’d and still loue you, Mistresse,To esteeme that an iniury to meWhich was to you conuenient: that is pastMy helpe, is past my cure. You yet may, Lady,[80]In recompence of all my dutious seruice,(Prouided that your will answere your power)Become my Creditresse.
Beau.I vnderstand you,And for assurance, the request you makeShall not be long vnanswered. Pray you sit,[85]And by what you shall heare, you’l easily finde,My passions are much fitter to desire,Then to be sued to.
Enter Romont and Florimell.
Flor.Sir, tis not enuyAt the start my fellow has got of me inMy Ladies good opinion, thats the motiue[90]Of this discouery; but due paymentOf what I owe her Honour.
Rom.So I conceiue it.
Flo.I haue obserued too much, nor shall my silencePreuent the remedy—yonder they are,I dare not bee seene with you. You may doe[95]What you thinke fit, which wil be, I presume,The office of a faithfull and tryed friendTo my young Lord.
Exit Flori.
Rom.This is no vision: ha!
Nou.With the next opportunity.
Beau.By this kisse,And this, and this.
Nou.That you would euer sweare thus.[100]
Rom.If I seeme rude, your pardon, Lady; yoursI do not aske: come, do not dare to shew meeA face of anger, or the least dislike.Put on, and suddaily a milder looke,I shall grow rough else.
Nou.What haue I done, Sir,[105]To draw this harsh vnsauory language from you?
Rom.Done, Popinjay? why, dost thou thinke that ifI ere had dreamt that thou hadst done me wrong,Thou shouldest outliue it?
Beau.This is something moreThen my Lords friendship giues commission for.[110]
Nou.Your presence and the place, makes him presumeVpon my patience.
Rom.As if thou ere wer’t angryBut with thy Taylor, and yet that poore shredCan bring more to the making vp of a man,Then can be hop’d from thee: thou art his creature,[115]And did hee not each morning new create [thee]Thou wouldst stinke and be forgotten. Ile not changeOn syllable more with thee, vntill thou bringSome testimony vnder good mens hands,Thou art a Christian. I suspect thee strongly,[120]And wilbe satisfied: till which time, keepe from me.The entertaiment of your visitationHas made what I intended on a businesse.
Nou.So wee shall meete—Madam.
Rom.Vse that legge again,And Ile cut off the other.
Nou.Very good.[125]
Exit Nouall.
Rom.What a perfume the Muske-cat leaues behind him!Do you admit him for a property,To saue you charges, Lady.
Beau.Tis not vselesse,Now you are to succeed him.
Rom.So I respect you,Not for your selfe, but in remembrance of,[130]Who is your father, and whose wife you now are,That I choose rather not to vnderstandYour nasty scoffe then,—
Beau.What, you will not beate mee,If I expound it to you. Heer’s a TyrantSpares neyther man nor woman.
Rom.My intents[135]Madam, deserue not this; nor do I stayTo be the whetstone of your wit: preserue itTo spend on such, as know how to admireSuch coloured stuffe. In me there is now speaks to youAs true a friend and seruant to your Honour,[140]And one that will with as much hazzard guard it,As euer man did goodnesse.—But then Lady,You must endeauour not alone to bee,But to appeare worthy such loue and seruice.
Beau.To what tends this?
Rom.Why, to this purpose, Lady,[145]I do desire you should proue such a wifeToCharaloys(and such a one hee merits)As Caesar, did hee liue, could not except at,Not onely innocent from crime, but freeFrom all taynt and suspition.
Beau.They are base[150]That iudge me otherwise.
Rom.But yet bee carefull.Detraction’s a bold monster, and feares notTo wound the fame of Princes, if it findBut any blemish in their liues to worke on.But Ile bee plainer with you: had the people[155]Bin learnd to speake, but what euen now I saw,Their malice out of that would raise an engineTo ouerthrow your honor. In my fight(With yonder pointed foole I frighted from you)You vs’d familiarity beyond[160]A modest entertaynment: you embrac’d himWith too much ardor for a stranger, andMet him with kisses neyther chaste nor comely:But learne you to forget him, as I willYour bounties to him, you will find it safer[165]Rather to be vncourtly, then immodest.
Beau.This prety rag about your necke shews well,And being coorse and little worth, it speakes you,As terrible as thrifty.
Rom.Madam.
Beau.Yes.And this strong belt in which you hang your honor[170]Will out-last twenty scarfs.
Rom.What meane you, Lady?
Beau.And all else about you Cap a peSo vniforme in spite of handsomnesse,Shews such a bold contempt of comelinesse,That tis not strange your Laundresse in the League,[175]Grew mad with loue of you.
Rom.Is my free counsayleAnswerd with this ridiculous scorne?
Beau.These obiectsStole very much of my attention from me,Yet something I remember, to speake truth,Deceyued grauely, but to little purpose,[180]That almost would haue made me sweare, some CurateHad stolne into the person ofRomont,And in the praise of goodwife honesty,Had read an homely.
Rom.By thy hand.
Beau.And sword,I will make vp your oath, twill want weight else.[185]You are angry with me, and poore I laugh at it.Do you come from the Campe, which affords onelyThe conuersation of cast suburbe whores,To set downe to a Lady of my ranke,Lymits of entertainment?[190]
Rom.Sure a Legion has possest this woman.
Beau.One stampe more would do well: yet I desire notYou should grow horne-mad, till you haue a wife.You are come to warme meate, and perhaps cleane linnen:Feed, weare it, and bee thankefull. For me, know,[195]That though a thousand watches were set on mee,And you the Master-spy, I yet would vse,The liberty that best likes mee. I will reuell,Feast, kisse, imbreace, perhaps grant larger fauours:Yet such as liue vpon my meanes, shall know[200]They must not murmur at it. If my LordBee now growne yellow, and has chose out youTo serue his Iealouzy that way, tell him this,You haue something to informe him:
Exit Beau.
Rom.And I will.Beleeue it wicked one I will. Heare, Heauen,[205]But hearing pardon mee: if these fruts growVpon the tree of marriage, let me shun it,As a forbidden sweete. An heyre and rich,Young, beautifull, yet adde to this a wife,And I will rather choose a Spittle sinner[210]Carted an age before, though three parts rotten,And take it for a blessing, rather thenBe fettered to the hellish slaueryOf such an impudence.
Enter Baumont with writings.
Bau.Collonell, good fortuneTo meet you thus: you looke sad, but Ile tell you[215]Something that shall remoue it. Oh how happyIs my LordCharaloysin his faire bride!
Rom.A happy man indeede!—pray you in what?
Bau.I dare sweare, you would thinke so good a Lady,A dower sufficient.
Rom.No doubt. But on.[220]
Bau.So faire, so chaste, so vertuous: so indeedAll that is excellent.
Rom.Women haue no cunningTo gull the world.
Bau.Yet to all these, my LordHer father giues the full addition ofAll he does now possesse inBurgundy:[225]These writings to confirme it, are new seal’dAnd I most fortunate to present him with them,I must goe seeke him out, can you direct mee?
Rom.You’l finde him breaking a young horse.
Bau.I thanke you.
Exit Baumont.
Rom.I must do something worthyCharaloysfriendship.[230]If she were well inclin’d to keepe her so,Deseru’d not thankes: and yet to stay a womanSpur’d headlong by hot lust, to her owne ruine,Is harder then to prop a falling towreWith a deceiuing reed.
Enter Rochfort.
Roch.Some one seeke for me,[235]As soone as he returnes.
Rom.Her father! ha?How if I breake this to him? sure it cannotMeete with an ill construction. His wisedomeMade powerfull by the authority of a father,Will warrant and giue priuiledge to his counsailes.[240]It shall be so—my Lord.
Roch.Your friendRomont:Would you ought with me?
Rom.I stand so engag’dTo your so many fauours, that I hold itA breach in thankfulnesse, should I not discouer,Though with some imputation to my selfe,[245]All doubts that may concerne you.
Roch.The performanceWill make this protestation worth my thanks.
Rom.Then with your patience lend me your attentionFor what I must deliuer, whispered onelyYou will with too much griefe receiue.
Enter Beaumelle, Bellapert.
Beau.See wench![250]Vpon my life as I forespake, hee’s nowPreferring his complaint: but be thou perfect,And we will fit him.
Bell.Feare not mee, pox on him:A Captaine turne Informer against kissing?Would he were hang’d vp in his rusty Armour:[255]But if our fresh wits cannot turne the plotsOf such a mouldy murrion on it selfe;Rich cloathes, choyse faire, and a true friend at a call,With all the pleasures the night yeelds, forsake vs.
Roch.This in my daughter? doe not wrong her.
Bell.Now.[260]Begin. The games afoot, and wee in distance.
Beau.Tis thy fault, foolish girle, pinne on my vaile,I will not weare those iewels. Am I notAlready matcht beyond my hopes? yet stillYou prune and set me forth, as if I were[265]Againe to please a suyter.
Bell.Tis the courseThat our great Ladies take.
Rom.A weake excuse.
Beau.Those that are better seene, in what concernesA Ladies honour and faire same, condemne it.You waite well, in your absence, my Lords friend[270]The vnderstanding, graue and wiseRomont.
Rom.Must I be still her sport?
Beau.Reproue me for it.And he has traueld to bring home a iudgementNot to be contradicted. You will sayMy father, that owes more to yeeres then he,[275]Has brought me vp to musique, language, Courtship,And I must vse them. True, but not t’offend,Or render me suspected.
Roch.Does your fine storyBegin from this?
Beau.I thought a parting kisseFrom youngNouall, would haue displeasd no more[280]Then heretofore it hath done; but I findeI must restrayne such fauours now; looke thereforeAs you are carefull to continue mine,That I no more be visited. Ile endureThe strictest course of life that iealousie[285]Can thinke secure enough, ere my behauiourShall call my fame in question.
Rom.Ten dissemblersAre in this subtile deuill. You beleeue this?
Roch.So farre that if you trouble me againeWith a report like this, I shall not onely[290]Iudge you malicious in your disposition,But study to repent what I haue doneTo such a nature.
Rom.Why, ’tis exceeding well.
Roch.And for you, daughter, off with this, off with it:I haue that confidence in your goodnesse, I,[295]That I will not consent to haue you liueLike to a Recluse in a cloyster: goeCall in the gallants, let them make you merry,Vse all fit liberty.
Bell.Blessing on you.If this new preacher with the sword and feather[300]Could proue his doctrine for Canonicall,We should haue a fine world.
Exit Bellapert.
Roch.Sir, if you pleaseTo beare your selfe as fits a Gentleman,The house is at your seruice: but if not,Though you seeke company else where, your absence[305]Will not be much lamented—
Exit Rochfort.
Rom.If this beThe recompence of striuing to preserueA wanton gigglet honest, very shortly’Twill make all mankinde Panders—Do you smile,Good Lady Loosenes? your whole sex is like you,[310]And that man’s mad that seekes to better any:What new change haue you next?
Beau.Oh, feare not you, sir,Ile shift into a thousand, but I willConuert your heresie.
Rom.What heresie? Speake.
Beau.Of keeping a Lady that is married,[315]From entertayning seruants.—
Enter Nouall Iu.Malatine,Liladam,Aymer,Pontalier.
O, you are welcome,Vae any meanes to vexe him,And then with welcome follow me.
Exit Beau
Nou.You are tyr’dWith your graue exhortations, Collonell.
Lilad.How is it? Fayth, your Lordship may doe well,[320]To helpe him to some Church-preferment: ’tisNow the fashion, for men of all conditions,How euer they haue liu’d; to end that way.
Aym.That face would doe well in a surplesse.
Rom.Rogues,Be silent—or—
Pont.S’death will you suffer this?[325]
Rom.And you, the master Rogue, the coward rascall,I shall be with you suddenly.
Nou.Pontallier,If I should strike him, I know I shall kill him:And therefore I would haue thee beate him, forHee’s good for nothing else.
Lilad.His backe[330]Appeares to me, as it would tire a Beadle,And then he has a knotted brow, would bruiseA courtlike hand to touch it.
Aym.Hee lookes likeA Curryer when his hides grown deare.
Pont.Take heedeHe curry not some of you.
Nou.Gods me, hee’s angry.[335]
Rom.I breake no Iests, but I can breake my swordAbout your pates.
Enter Charaloyes and Baumont.
Lilad.Heeres more.
Aym.Come let’s bee gone,Wee are beleaguerd.
Nou.Looke they bring vp their troups.
Pont.Will you sit downeWith this disgrace? You are abus’d most grosely.[340]
Lilad.I grant you, Sir, we are, and you would haue vsStay and be more abus’d.
Nou.My Lord, I am sorry,Your house is so inhospitable, we must quit it.
Exeunt. Manent. Char. Rom.
Cha.PretheeRomont, what caus’d this vprore?
Rom.Nothing.They laugh’d and vs’d their scuruy wits vpon mee.[345]
Char.Come, tis thy Iealous nature: but I wonderThat you which are an honest man and worthy,Should softer this suspition: no man laughes;No one can whisper, but thou apprehend’stHis conference and his scorne reflects on thee:[350]For my part they should scoffe their thin wits out,So I not heard ’em, beate me, not being there.Leaue, leaue these fits, to conscious men, to suchAs are obnoxious, to those foolish thingsAs they can gibe at.
Rom.Well, Sir.
Char.Thou art know’n[355]Valiant without detect, right defin’dWhich is (as fearing to doe iniury,As tender to endure it) not a brabbler,A swearer.
Rom.Pish, pish, what needs this my Lord?If I be knowne none such, how vainly, you[360]Do cast away good counsaile? I haue lou’d you,And yet must freely speake; so young a tutor,Fits not so old a Souldier as I am.And I must tell you, t’was in your behalfeI grew inraged thus, yet had rather dye,[365]Then open the great cause a syllable further.
Cha.In my behalfe? wherein hathCharaloisVnfitly so demean’d himselfe, to giueThe least occasion to the loosest tongue,To throw aspersions on him, or so weakely[370]Protected his owne honor, as it shouldNeed a defence from any but himselfe?They are fools that iudge me by my outward seeming,Why should my gentlenesse beget abuse?The Lion is not angry that does sleepe[375]Nor euery man a Coward that can weepe.For Gods sake speake the cause.
Rom.Not for the world.Oh it will strike disease into your bonesBeyond the cure of physicke, drinke your blood,Rob you of all your rest, contract your sight,[380]Leaue you no eyes but to see misery,And of your owne, nor speach but to wish thusWould I had perish’d in the prisons iawes:From whence I was redeem’d! twill weare you old,Before you haue experience in that Art,[385]That causes your affliction.
Cha.Thou dost strikeA deathfull coldnesse to my hearts high heate,And shrinkst my liuer like theCalenture.Declare this foe of mine, and lifes, that likeA man I may encounter and subdue it[390]It shall not haue one such effect in mee,As thou denouncest: with a Souldiers arme,If it be strength, Ile meet it: if a faultBelonging to my mind, Ile cut it offWith mine owne reason, as a Scholler should[395]Speake, though it make mee monstrous.
Rom.Ile dye first.Farewell, continue merry, and high HeauenKeepe your wife chaste.
Char.Hump, stay and take this wolfeOut of my brest, that thou hast lodg’d there, orFor euer lose mee.
Rom.Lose not, Sir, your selfe.[400]And I will venture—So the dore is fast.(Locke the dore.Now nobleCharaloys, collect your selfe,Summon your spirits, muster all your strengthThat can belong to man, sift passion,From euery veine, and whatsoeuer ensues,[405]Vpbraid not me heereafter, as the cause ofIealousy, discontent, slaughter and ruine:Make me not parent to sinne: you will knowThis secret that I burne with.
Char.Diuell on’t,What should it be?Romont, I heare you wish[410]My wifes continuance of Chastity.
Rom.There was no hurt in that.
Char.Why? do you knowA likelyhood or possibility vnto the contrarie?
Rom.I know it not, but doubt it, these the groundsThe seruant of your wife now youngNouall,[415]The sonne vnto your fathers Enemy(Which aggrauates my presumption the more)I haue been warnd of, touching her, nay, seene themTye heart to heart, one in anothers armes,Multiplying kisses, as if they meant[420]To pose Arithmeticke, or whose eyes wouldBee first burnt out, with gazing on the others.I saw their mouthes engender, and their palmesGlew’d, as if Loue had lockt them, their words flowAnd melt each others, like two circling flames,[425]Where chastity, like a Phoenix (me thought) burn’d,But left the world nor ashes, nor an heire.Why stand you silent thus? what cold dull flegme,As if you had no drop of choller mixtIn your whole constitution, thus preuailes,[430]To fix you now, thus stupid hearing this?
Cha.You did not see ’em on my Couch within,Like George a horse-backe on her, nor a bed?
Rom.Noe.
Cha.Ha, ha.
Rom.Laugh yee? eene so did your wife,And her indulgent father.
Cha.They were wife.[435]Wouldst ha me be a foole?
Rom.No, but a man.
Cha.There is no dramme of manhood to suspect,On such thin ayrie circumstance as thisMeere complement and courtship. Was this taleThe hydeous monster which you so conceal’d?[440]Away, thou curious impertinentAnd idle searcher of such leane nice toyes.Goe, thou sedicious sower of debate:Fly to such matches, where the bridegroome doubts:He holds not worth enough to counteruaile[445]The vertue and the beauty of his wife.Thou buzzing drone that ’bout my eares dost hum,To strike thy rankling sting into my heart,Whose vemon, time, nor medicine could asswage.Thus doe I put thee off, and confident[450]In mine owne innocency, and desert,Dare not conceiue her so vnreasonable,To putNouallin ballance against me,An vpstart cran’d vp to the height he has.Hence busiebody, thou’rt no friend to me,[455]That must be kept to a wiues iniury,
Rom.Ist possible? farewell, fine, honest man,Sweet temper’d Lord adieu: what ApoplexyHath knit fence vp? Is thisRomontsreward?Beare witnes the great spirit of my father,[460]With what a healthfull hope I administerThis potion that hath wrought so virulently,I not accuse thy wife of act, but wouldPreuent herPraecipuce, to thy dishonour,Which now thy tardy sluggishnesse will admit.[465]Would I had seene thee grau’d with thy great Sire,Ere liue to haue mens marginall fingers pointAt Charaloys, as a lamented story.An Emperour put away his wife for touchingAnother man, but thou wouldst haue thine tasted[470]And keepe her (I thinke.) Puffe. I am a fireTo warme a dead man, that waste out myselfe.Bleed—what a plague, a vengeance i’st to mee,If you will be a Cuckold? Heere I shewA swords point to thee, this side you may shun,[475]Or that: the perrill, if you will runne on,I cannot helpe it.
Cha.Didst thou neuer see meAngry,Romont?
Rom.Yes, and pursue a foeLike lightening
Char.Prethee see me so no more.I can be so againe. Put vp thy sword,[480]And take thy selfe away, lest I draw mine.
Rom.Come fright your foes with this: sir, I am your friend,And dare stand by you thus.
Char.Thou art not my friend,Or being so, thou art mad, I must not buyThy friendship at this rate; had I iust cause,[485]Thou knowst I durst pursue such iniuryThrough fire, ayre, water, earth, nay, were they allShuffled againe toChaos, but ther’s none.Thy skill,Romont, consists in camps, not courts.Farewell, vnciuill man, let’s meet no more.[490]Heere our long web of friendship I vntwist.Shall I goe whine, walke pale, and locke my wifeFor nothing, from her births free liberty,That open’d mine to me? yes; if I doeThe name of cuckold then, dog me with scorne.[495]I am aFrenchman, noItalianborne.