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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
HYDE PARK, by JAMES SHIRLEY Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: And how, and how Last Line: "^1^ suggested by gifford in place of the ""mortified of the old copy." | |||
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ. LORD BONVILE. FAIRFIELD, amorous Servants to MISTRESS CAROL. RIDER, VENTURE, LACY, suitor to MISTRESS BONAVENT. TRIER, suitor to JULIETTA. BONAVENT, a Merchant, supposed to have been lost at sea. JARVIS, Servant to MISTRESS BONAVENT. Page to BONVILE. Gentlemen. Jockey. Officers. Runners. Bagpipers. Park-keepers, Servants, &c. MISTRESS CAROL. MISTRESS BONAVENT, supposed to be a Widow. JULIETTA, Sister to FAIRFIELD. Waiting-woman. Milkmaid, &c. SCENE—LONDON and HYDE PARK. ACT THE FIRST. SCENE I.—A Street. Enter TRIER and LACY. TRI. And how, and how? Lacy. The cause depends— Tri. No mistress? Lacy. Yes, but no wife. Tri. For now she is a widow. Lacy. But I resolve— Tri. What does she say to thee? Lacy. She says—I know not what she says—but I Must take another course; and yet she is— Tri. A creature of much sweetness, if all tongues Be just in her report; and yet 'tis strange, Having seven years expected, and so much Remonstrance of her husband's loss at sea, She should continue thus. Lacy. What if she should Renew the bond of her devotion For seven years more? Tri. You will have time enough To pay in your affection. Lacy. I would make A voyage to Cassandra's temple first, And marry a deformed maid; yet I must Confess, she gives me a fair respect. Tri. Has she A hope her husband may be living yet? Lacy. I cannot tell; she may have a conceit Some dolphin has preserved him in the storm, Or that he may be tenant to some whale, Within whose belly he may practise lent, And feed on fish till he be vomited Upon some coast: or, having 'scaped the seas, And bills of exchange failing, he might purpose To foot it o'er the Alps in his return, And by mischance is fallen among the mice With whom, perhaps, he battens upon sleep, Beneath the snow. Tri. This were a vagary. Lacy. I know not what to think; or, is she not The worse for the coy lady that lives with her? Tri. Her kinswoman? Lacy. Such a malicious piece, (I mean to love,) 'tis pity any place But a cold nunnery should be troubled with her. If all maids were but her disciples, we Should have no generation, and the world, For want of children, in few years undone by't: Here's one can tell you more. Is not that Jarvis, The widow's servant? Enter VENTURE and JARVIS meeting. Vent. Whither in such haste, man? Jar. I am commanded, sir, to fetch a gentleman. Vent. To thy mistress? to give her a heat this morning? Jar. I have spied him.—With your pardon— [Goes to LACY. Tri. Good morrow, Master Venture. Vent. Frank Trier? Tri. You Look high and jocund, Venus has been propitious; I dreamt last night thou wert a bridegroom. Vent. Such a thing may be; the wind blows now From a more happy coast. Lacy. I must leave you; I am sent for. Tri. To thy mistress? Lacy. Without more ceremony, gentlemen, my service. Farewell. [Exit. Vent. I'll tell thee, I have a mistress. Tri. I believe it. Vent. And yet I have her not. Tri. But you have hope. Vent. Or rather certainty. Tri. Why, I hear she is A very tyrant over men. Vent. Worse, worse, The needle of a dial never had So many waverings; but she is touched, And she points only this way now, true north; I am her pole. Tri. And she your Ursa minor. Vent. I laugh to think how other of her rivals Will look, when I enjoy her. Tri. You are not yet contracted? Vent. No, she changed Some amorous tokens; do you see this diamond? A toy she gave me. Tri. 'Cause she saw you a spark. Vent. Her flame of love is here; and in exchange She took a chain of pearl. Tri. You'll see it hanged. Vent. These to the wise are arguments of love, And mutual promises. Enter Lord BONVILE and Page. Tri. Your lordship's welcome to town: I am blest to see your honour in good health. Lord B. Prithee visit my lodgings. Tri. I shall presume to tender my humble service. [Exeunt Lord B. and Page. Vent. What's he? Tri. A sprig of the nobility, That has a spirit equal to his fortunes; A gentleman that loves clean napery. Vent. I guess your meaning. Tri. A lady of pleasure; 'tis no shame for men Of his high birth to love a wench; his honour May privilege more sins: next to a woman, He loves a running horse.— Setting aside these recreations, He has a noble nature, valiant, bountiful. Vent. I was of his humour till I fell in love, I mean for wenching; you may guess a little, By my legs; but I will now be very honest, And when I am married— Tri. Then you are confident To carry away your mistress from them all? Vent. From Jove himself, though he should practise all His shapes to court her; 'tis impossible She should put any trick upon me, I Have won her very soul. Tri. Her body must Needs be your own then. Vent. I have a brace of rivals, Would they were here, that I might jeer them! And see how opportunely one is come! Enter RIDER. I'll make you a little sport. Tri. I have been melancholy, You will express a favour in't. Rid. Master Venture! the first man in my wish; What gentleman is that? Vent. A friend of mine. Rid. I am his servant; look you, we are friends, And't shall appear, however things succeed, That I have loved you; and you cannot take My counsel in ill part. Vent. What is the business. Rid. For my part, I have Used no enchantment, philter, no devices That are unlawful, to direct the stream Of her affection; it flows naturally. Vent. How's this?—Prithee observe. [Aside to TRIER. Tri. I do, and shall laugh presently. Rid. For your anger, I wear a sword, though I have no desire It should be guilty of defacing any Part of your body; yet upon a just And noble provocation, wherein My mistress' love and honour is engaged, I dare draw blood. Tri. Ha, ha, ha! Vent. A "mistress' love and honour!" this is pretty. Rid. I know you cannot But understand me; yet, I say I love you, And with a generous breast, and in the confidence You will take it kindly, I return to that I promised you, good counsel; come, leave off The prosecution. Vent. Of what, I prithee? Rid. There will be less affront than to expect Till the last minute, and behold the victory Another's; you may guess why I declare this. I am studious to preserve an honest friendship; For though it be my glory, to be adorned With trophies of her vanquished love— Vent. Whose love? Tri. This sounds as if he jeered you. [Aside to VENTURE. Vent. Mushroom! [Draws. Tri. What do you mean, gentlemen? friends and fall out About good counsel! Vent. I'll put up again, Now I think better on't. Tri. 'Tis done discreetly. Cover the nakedness of your tool, I pray. Vent. Why, look you, sir; if you bestow this counsel Out of your love, I thank you; yet there is No great necessity, why you should be at The cost of so much breath; things well considered: A lady's love is mortal, I know that, And if a thousand men should love a woman, The dice must carry her; but one of all Can wear the garland. Tri. Now you come to him. Vent. For my own part, I loved the lady well, But you must pardon me, if I demonstrate There's no such thing as you pretend, and therefor In quittance of your loving, honest counsel, I would not have you build an airy castle; Her stars have pointed her another way, This instrument will take her height. [Shows the diamond ring. Rid. Ha! Vent. And you may guess what cause you have to triumph; I would not tell you this, but that I love you And hope you will not run yourself into The cure of Bedlam. He that wears this favour, Hath sense to apprehend. Rid. That diamond? Vent. Observe it perfectly, there are no trophies Of vanquished love, I take it, coming toward you; "It will be less affront, than to expect Till the last minute, and behold the victory Another's." Rid. That ring I gave her. Tri. Ha, ha, ha! Vent. This was his gift to her; ha, ha, ha! Have patience, spleen; ha, ha! Tri. The scene is changed! Rid. She will not use me thus; she did receive it With all the circumstance of love. Vent. I pity him; my eyes run o'er. Dost hear?— I cannot choose but laugh, and yet I pity thee. She has a jeering wit, and I shall love her More heartily for this. What dost thou think? Poor gentleman, how he has fooled himself! Rid. I'll to her again. Vent. Nay, be not passionate! I' faith, thou wert too confident, I knew It could not hold; dost think I'd say so much else? I can tell thee more; but lose her memory. Rid. Were it more rich [He shows a chain of pearl. Than that which Cleopatra gave to Antony, With scorn I would return it. Tri. She give you this chain? Rid. She shall be hanged in chains ere I will keep it. Vent. Stay, stay; let my eye Examine that———this chain?— Rid. Who would trust woman after this? Vent. The very same She took of me, when I received this diamond! Rid. Ha, ha! you do but jest; she will not fool You o' this fashion; look a little better, One may be like another. Vent. 'Tis the same. Rid. Ha, ha! I would it were, that we might laugh At one another; by this hand I will Forgive her: prithee tell me—ha, ha, ha! Tri. You will "carry her From Jove himself, though he should practise all His shapes to court her." Rid. By this pearl,—O rogue, How I do love her for't!—be not dejected; "A lady's love is mortal, one of all Must wear the garland; do not fool yourself Beyond the cure of Bedlam." Tri. She has fitted you With a pair of fools' coats, and as handsomely As any tailor, that had taken measure. Vent. Give me thy hand. Tri. Nay, lay your heads together How to revenge it; and so, gentlemen, I take my leave. [Exit. Vent. She has abused us. Rid. Let us take his counsel; We can be but what we are. Vent. A pair of credulous fools. Rid. This other fellow, Fairfield, has prevailed. Vent. Which if he have— Rid. What shall we do? Vent. I think we were best let him alone. Rid. Do you hear? We'll to her again; (you will Be ruled by me); and tell her what we think of her. Vent. She may come to herself, and be ashamed on't. Rid. If she would affect one of us, for my part I am indifferent. Vent. So say I too, but to give us both the canvas!— Let's walk, and think how to behave ourselves. [Exeunt. SCENE II.—A Room in BONAVENT'S House. Enter Mistress BONAVENT and Mistress CAROL. Mis. Car. What do you mean to do with him? Mis. Bon. Thou art Too much a tyrant; the seven years are past, That did oblige me to expect my husband, Engaged to sea; and though within those limits Frequent intelligence hath reported him Lost, both to me, and his own life, I have Been careful of my vow; and were there hope Yet to embrace him, I would think another Seven years no penance: but I should thus Be held a cruel woman, in his certain Loss, to despise the love of all mankind. And therefore I resolve, upon so large A trial of his constancy, at last To give him the reward of his respects To me, and– Mis. Car. Marry him. Mis. Bon. You have apprehended. Mis. Car. No marvel if men rail upon you then, And doubt whether a widow may be saved. We maids are thought the worse on, for your easiness. How are poor women overseen! We must Cast away ourselves upon a whining lover, In charity: I hope my cousin's ghost Will meet you as you go to church, or if You 'scape it then, upon the wedding night— Mis. Bon. Fie! fie! Mis. Car. When you are both abed, and candles out. Mis. Bon. Nay, put not out the candles. Mis. Car. May they burn blue then, at his second kiss, And fright him from—well, I could say something; But take your course—He's come already. Enter LACY. Put him off but another twelvemonth. [Mis. BONAVENT walks aside with LACY.]—So, so. Oh love, into what foolish labyrinths Dost thou lead us! I would all women were But of my mind, we would have a new world Quickly. I will go study poetry On purpose to write verses in the praise Of th' Amazonian ladies, in whom only Appears true valour (for the instruction Of all posterity), to beat their husbands. Lacy. How you endear your servant! Mis. Car. I will not Be guilty of more stay. Enter FAIRFIELD. Fair. Sweet lady! Mis. Car. You're come in time, sir, to redeem me. Fair. Why, lady? Mis. Car. You will be as comfortable as strong waters; There's a gentleman— Fair. So uncivil to affront you? Mis. Car. I had no patience to hear him longer; Take his offence, before you question him. Fair. And be most happy if, by any service, You teach me to deserve your fair opinion. Mis. Car. It is not civil to eavesdrop him, but I'm sure he talks on't now. Fair. Of what? Mis. Car. Of love; is any thing more ridiculous? You know I never cherish that condition: In you 'tis the most harsh, unpleasing discord; But I hope you will be instructed better, Knowing how much my fancy goes against it. Talk not of that, and welcome. Fair. You retain, I see, your unkind temper; will no thought Soften your heart? disdain agrees but ill With so much beauty; if you would persuade Me not to love you, strive to be less fair; Undo that face, and so become a rebel To heaven and nature. Mis. Car. You do love my face then? Fair. As heavenly prologue to your mind; I do not Doat, like Pygmalion, on the colours. Mis. Car. No, you cannot; his was a painted mistress. Or, if it be the mind you so pretend To affect, you increase my wonder of your folly, For I have told you that so often. Fair. What? Mis. Car. My mind, so opposite to all your courtship, That I had rather hear the tedious tales Of Hollinshed, than any thing that trenches On love. If you come fraught with any o' Cupid's devices, keep them for his whirligigs; Or load the next edition of his messenger, Or post, with a mad packet, I shall but laugh At them, and pity you. Fair. That pity— Mis. Car. Do not mistake me, it shall be a very Miserable pity, without love? Were I a man, and had but half that handsomeness, (For though I have not love, I hate detraction), Ere I would put my invention to the sweat Of compliment, to court my mistress' hand, And call her smile, blessing beyond a sun-beam, Entreat to wait upon her, give her rings With wanton, or most lamentable poesies, I would turn thrasher. Fair. This is a new doctrine, From women. Mis. Car. 'Twill concern your peace, to have Some faith in it. Fair. You would not be neglected? Mis. Car. You neglect Yourselves, the nobleness of your birth and nature, By servile flattery of this jigging, And that coy mistress; keep your privilege, Your masculine property. Fair. Is there so great A happiness in nature? Mis. Car. There is one [Points to LACY. Just of your mind; can there be such happiness In nature? Fie upon't, if it were possible, That ever I should be so mad to love, To which, I thank my stars, I am not inclined, I should not hold such servants worth my garters, Though they would put me in security To hang themselves, and ease me of their visits. Fair. You are a strange gentlewoman; why, look you, lady: I am not so enchanted with your virtues, But I do know myself, and at what distance To look upon such mistresses; I can Be scurvily conditioned; you are— Mis. Car. As thou dost hope for any good, rail now But a little. Fair. I could provoke you. Mis. Car. To laugh, but not to lie down. Why, prithee do. Fair. Go, you are a foolish creature, and not worth My services. Mis. Car. Aloud, that they may hear; The more the merrier, I'll take't as kindly As if thou hadst given me the Exchange. What, all this cloud Without a shower? Fair. You are most ingrateful. Mis. Car. Good! Abominable peevish, and a wench That would be beaten, beaten black and blue, And then, perhaps, she may have colour for't. Come, come, you cannot scold With confidence, nor with grace; you should look big, And swear you are no gamester; practise dice And cards a little better, you will get Many confusions and fine curses by't. Fair. Is not she mad? Mis. Car. To show I have my reason, I'll give you some good counsel, and be plain with you; None that have eyes will follow the direction Of a blind guide, and what do you think of Cupid? Women are either fools, or very wise, Take that from me; the foolish women are Not worth your love, and if a woman know How to be wise, she will not care for you. Fair. Do you give all this counsel without a fee? Come, be less wild. I know you cannot be So hard of soul. [Offers to take her hand. Mis. Car. Prithee let my body alone! Fair. Why are you thus peremptory? Had Your mother been so cruel to mankind, This heresy to love, with you had been Unborn. Mis. Car. My mother was no maid. Fair. How, lady? Mis. Car. She was married long ere I was born, I take it, Which I shall never be, that rule's infallible; I would not have you fooled in the expectation, A favour all my suitors cannot boast of. Go home, and say your prayers, I will not look For thanks till seven year hence. Fair. I know not what To say; yes, I will home, and think a satire.— Was ever man jeered thus for his good will! [Exit. Mis. Bon. The license will be soon dispatched. Lacy. Leave that To my care, lady, and let him presume, Whom you intend to bless with such a gift, Seal on your lips the assurance of his heart. [Kisses her. I have more wings than Mercury: expect Your servant in three minutes. Mis. Car. Take more time. You'll overheat yourself, and catch a surfeit. Lacy. My nimble lady, I have business; we Will have a dialogue another time. [Exit. Mis. Car. You do intend to marry him, then? Mis. Bon. I have promised To be his wife; and, for his more security, This morning— Mis. Car. How! this morning? Mis. Bon. What should one, That has resolved, lose time? I do not love Much ceremony; suits in love should not, Like suits in law, be racked from term to term. Mis. Car. You will join issue presently, without your council, You may be o'erthrown; take heed, I have known wives That have been o'erthrown in their own case, and after Nonsuited too, that's twice to be undone. But take your course; some widows have been mortified. Mis. Bon. And maids do now and then meet with their match. Mis. Car. What is in your condition makes you weary? You are sick of plenty and command; you have Too, too much liberty, too many servants; Your jewels are your own, and you would see How they will show upon your husband's wagtail. You have a coach now, and a Christian livery To wait on you to church, and are not catechised When you come home; you have a waiting-woman, A monkey, squirrel, and a brace of islands, Which may be thought superfluous in your family, When husbands come to rule. A pretty wardrobe, A tailor of your own, a doctor too, That knows your body, and can make you sick I' the spring, or fall, or when you have a mind to't, Without control; you have the benefit Of talking loud and idle at your table, May sing a wanton ditty, and not be chid, Dance, and go late to bed, say your own prayers, Or go to Heaven by your chaplain. Mis. Bon. Very fine. Mis. Car. And will you lose all this, for "I, Cicely, take thee, John, to be my husband"? Keep him still to be your servant; Imitate me; a hundred suitors cannot Be half the trouble of one husband. I Dispose my frowns and favours like a princess; Deject, advance, undo, create again; It keeps the subjects in obedience, And teaches 'em to look at me with distance. Enter VENTURE and RIDER. Mis. Bon. But you encourage some. Mis. Car. 'Tis when I have nothing else to do, for sport, As, for example— Mis. Bon. But I am not now in tune to hear 'em; prithee Let's withdraw. [Exeunt. Vent. Nay, nay, lady, we must follow you. [Exeunt VENTURE and RIDER. ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I.—An outer Room in BONAVENT'S House. Enter BONAVENT in disguise, listening. BONA. Music and revels! they are very merry. Enter a Servant. By your favour, sir. Ser. You are welcome. Bona. Pray, is this a dancing school? Ser. No dancing school. Bona. And yet some voices sound like women. Ser. Wilt please you To taste a cup of wine? 'tis this day free As at a coronation; you seem A gentleman. Bona. Prithee, who dwells here? Ser. The house this morning was a widow's, sir, But now her husband's; without circumstance, She is married. Bona. Prithee, her name? Ser. Her name was Mistress Bonavent. Bona. How long is't since her husband died? Ser. 'Tis two years since she had intelligence He was cast away; at his departure, he Engaged her to a seven years expectation, Which full expired, this morning she became A bride. Bona. What's the gentleman she has married? Ser. A man of pretty fortune, that has been Her servant many years. Bona. How do you mean? Wantonly? or does he serve for wages? Ser. Neither, I mean a suitor. Bona. Cry mercy; may I be acquainted with his name? Ser. And his person too, if you have a mind to't; Master Lacy; I'll bring you to him. Bona. Master Lacy, may be 'tis he; would thou couldst help me to A sight of this gentleman! I have business with One of his name, and cannot meet with him. Ser. Please you walk in. Bona. I would not be an intruder In such a day; if I might only see him.— Ser. Follow me, and I'll do you that favour. [Exeunt. SCENE II.—Another Room in the same. Enter LACY, Mistress BONAVENT, RIDER, Mistress CAROL, and VENTURE, dancing; followed at a distance by BONAVENT. Vent. Who is that peeps? Lacy. Peeps!—Who is that? [Bringing forward BONAVENT]—Faith, you shall dance. Bona. Good sir, you must excuse me, I am a stranger. Lacy. Your tongue does walk our language, and your feet Shall do as we do: take away his cloak And sword.—By this hand, you shall dance, Monsieur, No pardonnez moi. Mis. Car. Well said, master bridegroom, The gentleman may perhaps want exercise. Mis. Bon. He will not take it well. Vent. The bridegroom's merry. Lacy. Take me no takes; Come, choose your firk, for dance you shall. Bona. I cannot; You'll not compel me? Lacy. I have sworn. Bona. 'Tis an affront; as I am a gentleman, I know not how to foot your chamber jigs. Lacy. No remedy; here's a lady longs for one vagary.— Fill a bowl of sack, and then to the Canaries. Bona. You are circled with your friends, and do not well To use this privilege to a gentleman's Dishonour. Lacy. You shall shake your heels. Bona. I shall? Ladies, it is this gentleman's desire That I should make you mirth; I cannot dance, I tell you that afore. Mis. Bon. He seems to be a gentleman and a soldier. Mis. Car. Good Mars, be not so sullen; you'll do more With Venus privately. Bona. Because this gentleman is engaged, I'll try. [A Dance. Will you excuse me yet? Lacy. Play excuse me; yes, any thing you'll call for. Mis. Car. This motion every morning will be wholesome And beneficial to your body, sir. Bona. So, so. Mis. Car. Your pretty lump requires it. Bona. Where's my sword, sir? I have been your hobby-horse. Mis. Car. You danced something like one. Bona. Jeer on, my whimsy lady. Mis. Bon. Pray impute it No trespass studied to affront you, sir, But to the merry passion of a bridegroom. Lacy. Prithee stay: we'll to Hyde Park together. Bona. There you may meet with morris-dancers: for You, lady, I wish you more joy, so farewell. [Exit. Lacy. Come, let's have t'other whirl, lustily, boys! [They dance off. SCENE III.—A Room in FAIRFIELD'S House. Enter FAIRFIELD, JULIETTA, and Waiting-woman. Jul. You are resolved then? Fair. I have no other cure left, And if I do it not quickly, my affection May be too far spent, and all physic will Be cast away. Jul. You will show a manly fortitude. Fair. When saw you Master Trier? Jul. Not since yesterday. Fair. Are not his visits frequent? Jul. He does see me sometimes. Fair. Come, I know thou lov'st him, and he will Deserve it; he's a pretty gentleman. Jul. It was your character, that first commended Him to my thoughts. Fair. If he be slow to answer it, He loses me again; his mind, more than His fortune, gain'd me to his praise: but I Trifle my precious time. Farewell! all my good wishes stay with thee. [Exit. Enter TRIER. Jul. And mine attend you!—Master Trier! Tri. I come to kiss your hand. Jul. And take your leave? Tri. Only to kiss't again! Jul. You begin to be a stranger; in two mornings Not one visit, where you profess affection! Tri. I should be surfeited with happiness If I should dwell here. Jul. Surfeits in the spring Are dangerous, and yet I never heard, A lover would absent him from his mistress Through fear to be more happy; but I allow That for a compliment, and dispute not with you A reason of your actions. You are now welcome, And though you should be guilty of neglect, My love would overcome any suspicion. Tri. You are all goodness.— Enter a Servant, and whispers TRIER. With me? prithee admit him. [Exit Servant. Enter Page. Page. Sir, my lord saw you enter, and desires To speak with you. Tri. His lordship shall command; where is he? Page. Below, sir. Tri. Say, I instantly wait on him.— [Exit Page. Shall I presume upon your favour, lady? Jul. In what? Tri. That I may entreat him hither? you will honour me To bid him welcome; he is a gentleman To whom I owe all services, and in Himself is worthy of your entertainment. Jul. If he be your's command me. Enter Lord BONVILE and Page. Tri. My lord, excuse— Lord B. Nay, I prevent your trouble.—Lady, I am Your humble servant.—Pardon my intrusion. I have no business, only I saw you enter. Tri. Your lordship honours me. Lord B. What gentlewoman's this? Tri. Why— [Whispers him. Lord B. A lady of pleasure! I like her eye, it has A pretty twirl with't; will she bid one welcome? Tri. Be confident, my lord.—Sweet lady, pray Assure his lordship he is welcome. Jul. I want words. Lord B. Oh, sweet lady, your lip in silence Speaks the best language. Jul. Your lordship's welcome to this humble roof. Lord B. I am confirmed. [Aside. Tri. If you knew, lady, what Perfection of honour dwells in him, You would be studious, with all ceremony To entertain him! besides, to me His lordship's goodness hath so flowed, you cannot Study, what will oblige me more than in His welcome. Lord B. Come, you compliment. Jul. Though I want both ability and language, My wishes shall be zealous to express me Your humble servant. Lord B. Come, that humble was But compliment in you, too. Jul. I would not Be guilty of dissembling with your lordship; I know words that have more proportion With my distance to your noble birth and fortune, Than humble servant. Lord B. I do not love these distances. Tri. You would have her be more humble.— This will try her, If she resist his siege, she is a brave one, I know he'll put her to't. He that doth love Wisely, will see the trial of his mistress, And what I want in impudence myself, Another may supply for my advantage; I'll frame excuse. [Aside. Lord B. Frank, thou art melancholy. Tri. My lord, I now reflected on a business Concerns me equal with my fortune, and It is the more unhappy that I must So rudely take my leave. Lord B. What! not so soon? Tri. Your honour's pardon. Jul. Are you, sir, in earnest? Tri. Love will instruct you to interpret fairly; They are affairs that cannot be dispensed with.— I leave this noble gentleman. Jul. He's a stranger; You will not use me well, and show no care Of me, nor of my honour; I pray stay. Tri. Thou hast virtue to secure all; I am confident, Temptations will shake thy innocence No more than waves that climb a rock, which soon Betray their weakness,—and discover thee More clear and more impregnable. Jul. How is this? Tri. Farewell. I will not sin against your honour's clemency, To doubt your pardon. Lord B. Well, an there be no remedy, I shall see you Anon in the Park; the match holds.—[Exit TRIER.] I am not willing To leave you alone, lady. Jul. I have a servant. Lord B. You have many; in their number pray write me, I shall be very dutiful. Jul. Oh, my lord. Lord B. And when I have done a fault, I shall be instructed, But with a smile, to mend it. Jul. Done what fault? Lord B. Faith, none at all, if you but think so. Jul. I think your lordship would not willingly Offend a woman. Lord B. I would never hurt 'em, It has been my study still to please those women That fell within my conversation. I am very tender-hearted to a lady, I can deny them nothing. Jul. The whole sex Is bound to you. Lord B. If they well considered things, And what a stickler I am in their cause, The common cause, but most especially How zealous I am in a virgin's honour, As all true knights should be, no woman could Deny me hospitality, and let down, When I desire access, the rude portcullice: I have a natural sympathy with fair ones, As they do, I do; there's no handsome woman Complains, that she has lost her maidenhead, But I wish mine had been lost with it. Jul. Your lordship's merry. Lord B. 'Tis because you look pleasant.— A very handsome lodging; is there any Accommodations that way. Jul. There's a garden, Will't please your lordship taste the air on't. Lord B. I meant other conveniency; but if You please, I'll wait upon you thither. [Exeunt Lord BONVILE and JULIETTA. Page. You and I had better stay, and in their absence Exercise one another. Wait. How mean you, page? Page. I'll teach you a way that we may follow 'em, And not remove from hence. Wait. How, prithee? Page. Shall I beg your lip? Wait. I cannot spare it. Page. I'll give you both mine. Wait. What means the child? Page. Because I have no upper lip, do you scorn me? I have kissed ladies before now, and have Been sent for to their chambers. Wait. You sent for! Page. Yes, and been trusted with their closets too! We are such pretty things, we can play at "All hid under a fardingale;" how long Have you been a waiting creature? Wait. Not a month yet. Page. Nay then, I cannot blame your ignorance; You have perhaps your m aidenhead. Wait. I hope so. Page. Oh, lamentable! away with it, for shame. Chaffer it with the coachman, for the credit Of your profession; do not keep it long, 'Tis fineable in court. Wait. Good master page, How long have you been skilled in those affairs? Page. E'er since I was in breeches; and you'll find Your honesty so troublesome. Wait. How so? Page. When you have trucked away your maidenhead, You have excuse lawful to put off gamesters, For you may swear, and give 'em satisfaction, You have not what they looked for; beside the benefit Of being impudent as occasion serves, A thing much in request with waiting creatures: We pages can instruct you in that quality, So you be tractable. Wait. The boy is wild. Page. An you will lead me a chase, I'll follow you. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.—A Room in BONAVENT'S House. Enter Mistress CAROL, RIDER, and VENTURE. Mis. Car. Why, did you ever think I could affect, Of all men living, such a thing as you are? What hope, or what encouragement did I give you? Because I took your diamond, must you presently Bound like a stoned horse? Rid. She's a very colt. Mis. Car. 'Cause you can put your hat off like a dancer, And make a better leg than you were born to, For, to say truth, your calf is well amended, Must this so overtake me, that I must Straight fall in love with you? one step to church. Another into the streets? more to a bargain; You are wide a bow, and something overshot. Vent. Then this is all that I must trust to, you Will never have me? Mis. Car. In my right mind, I think so. Why, prithee tell me, what I should do with thee? Vent. Can you find nothing to do with me? Mis. Car. To find my monkey spiders, were an office, Perhaps, you would not execute? Vent. You are a gipsy, And none of the twelve Sybils in a tavern, Have such a tanned complexion; there be dogs And horses in the world. Mis. Car. They'll keep you company. Vent. Tell me of spiders! I'll wring your monkey's neck off. Mis. Car. And then puzzle Your brain to make an elegy, which shall be sung To the tune of "The Devil and the Baker;" good! You have a pretty ambling wit in summer; Do you let it out, or keep't for your own riding? Who holds your stirrup, while you jump Into a jest, to the endangering Of your ingenious quodlibets? Rid. Come, thou hast said enough. Mis. Car. To him; you would have some? Rid. Some testimony of your love, if it please you. Mis. Car. Indeed, I have heard you are a precious gentleman, And in your younger days could play at trap well. Rid. Fare you well, gentlewoman! by this light a devil; I'll follow my old game of horse-racing. Vent. I could tear her ruff! I would thou wert A whore, then I'd be revenged, and bring the 'prentices To arraign thee on Shrove Tuesday; a pox upon you! Enter FAIRFIELD. Mis. Car. A third man, a third man! two fair gamesters; Rid. For shame! let's go. Mis. Car. Will you stay, gentlemen? you have no more wit [Exeunt VENTURE and RIDER. To vent! keep your heads warm in any case, There may be dregs in the bottom o' the brain pan, Which may turn to somewhat in seven years; and set You up again.—Now, sir. Fair. Lady, I am come to you. Mis. Car. It does appear so. Fair. To take my leave. Mis. Car. 'Tis granted, sir; good bye. Fair. But you must stay and hear a little more. I promise not to trouble you with courtship, I am as weary as you can be displeased with't, Mis. Car. On these conditions, I would have the patience To hear the brazen head speak. Fair. Whether, or how I purpose to dispose Myself hereafter, as I know you have No purpose to enquire, I have no great Ambition to discourse; but how I have Studied your fair opinion, I remit To time, and come now only to request That you would grant, in lieu of my true service, One boon at parting. Mis. Car. Fort bon! proceed. Fair. But you must swear to perform truly what I shall desire; and that you may not think I come with any cunning to deceive you, You shall accept whate'er you would deny me; And after all, I'll make request. Mis. Car. How's this? Fair. But it concerns my life, or what can else Be nearer to me, that you swear. Mis. Car. To what? Fair. When you have made exceptions, and thought What things in all the world you will exempt From my petition, I'll be confident To tell you my desire. Mis. Car. This is fair play. Fair. I would not for an empire, by a trick Oblige you to perform what should displease you. Mis. Car. 'Tis a very strange request; are you in earnest? Ere you begin, shall I except? 'tis odds But I may include, what you have a mind to, then Where's your petition? Fair. I will run that hazard. Mis. Car. You will? why, look you; for a little mirth's sake, And since you come so honestly, because You shall not say, I am composed of marble, I do consent. Fair. Swear. Mis. Car. I am not come to that; I'll first set bounds to your request, and when I have left nothing for you worth my grant, I'll take a zealous oath to grant you any thing. Fair. You have me at your mercy. Mis. Car. First, you shall not Desire that I should love you. Fair. That's first; proceed. Mis. Car. No more but "proceed"? Do you know what I say? Fair. Your first exception forbids to ask That you should love me. Mis. Car. And you are contented? Fair. I must be so. Mis. Car. What, in the name of wonder, will he ask me? [Aside. You shall not desire me to marry you. Fair. That's the second. Mis. Car. You shall neither directly nor indirectly, wish me to lie with you. Have I not clipt the wings of your conceit? Fair. That's the third. Mis. Car. "That's the third!" is there any thing a young man would Desire of his mistress, when he must neither love, marry, nor lie with her? Fair. My suit is still untouched. Mis. Car. Suit! if you have another 'tis out of fashion, You cannot beg my state, yet I would willingly Give part of that, to be rid of thee. Fair. Not one jewel. Mis. Car. You would not have me spoil my face, drink poison, Or kill any body? Fair. Goodness forbid, that I should wish you danger! Mis. Car. Then you would not have me ride through the city naked, As once a princess of England did through Coventry? Fair. All my desires are modest. Mis. Car. You shall not beg my parrot, nor entreat me To fast, or wear a hairy smock. Fair. None of these. Mis. Car. I will not be confined to make me ready At ten, and pray till dinner; I will play At gleek as often as I please, and see Plays when I have a mind to't, and the races, Though men should run Adamites before me. Fair. None of these trench on what I have to ask. Mis. Car. Why, then I swear—stay, You shall not ask me before company How old I am, a question most untoothsome. I know not what to say more; I'll not be Bound from Spring-garden, and the 'Sparagus. I will not have my tongue tied up, when I've A mind to jeer my suitors, among which Your worship shall not doubt to be remembered, For I must have my humour, I am sick else; I will not be compelled to hear your sonnets, A thing before I thought to advise you of; Your words of hard concoction, your rude poetry, Have much impaired my health, try sense another while And calculate some prose according to The elevation of our pole at London, As says the learned almanack—but, come on, And speak your mind, I have done; I know not what More to except; if it be none of these, And, as you say, feasible on my part, I swear. Fair. By what? Mis. Car. For once, a kiss, it may be a parting blow. By that I will perform what you desire. [Kisses him. Fair. In few words thus receive it: by that oath I bind you never to desire my company Hereafter; for no reason to affect me; This, I am sure, was none of your exceptions. Mis. Car. What has the man said? Fair. 'Tis clear, I am confident, To your understanding. Mis. Car. You have made me swear That I must never love you, nor desire Your company. Fair. I know you will not violate What you have sworn, so all good thoughts possess you. [Exit. Mis. Car. Was all this circumstance for this? I never Found any inclination to trouble him With too much love; why should he bind me from it, And make me swear? an oath that, for the present, I had no affection to him, had been reasonable; But for the time to come, never to love, For any cause or reason, that may move me Hereafter, very strange! I know not what to think on't, Although I never meant, to think well of him, Yet to be limited, and be prescribed, I must not do it,—'twas a poor trick in him; But I'll go practise something to forget it. [Exit. ACT THE THIRD. SCENE I.—A part of Hyde Park. Enter Lord BONVILE and JULIETTA. LORD B. Lady, you are welcome to the spring; the Park Looks fresher to salute you: how the birds On every tree sing, with more cheerfulness At your access, as if they prophesied Nature would die, and resign her providence To you, fit only to succeed her! Jul. You express A master of all compliment; I have Nothing but plain humility, my lord, To answer you. Lord B. But I'll speak our own English, Hang these affected strains, which we sometimes Practise, to please the curiosity Of talking ladies; by this lip thou'rt welcome, [Kisses her. I'll swear a hundred oaths upon that book, An't please you. Enter TRIER, behind. Tri. They are at it. Jul. You shall not need, my lord, I'm not incredulous, I do believe your honour, and dare trust For more than this. Lord B. I will not break my credit With any lady that dares trust me. Jul. She had a cruel heart, that would not venture Upon the engagement of your honour. Lord B. What? What durst thou venture now, and be plain with me? Jul. There's nothing in the verge of my command, That should not serve your lordship. Lord B. Speak, speak truth, And flatter not, on what security? Jul. On that which you propounded, sir, your honour: It is above all other obligation, And he that's truly noble, will not stain it. Lord B. Upon my honour will you lend me then But a night's lodging? Jul. How, sir? Lord B. She is angry; I shall obtain, I know the trick on't; had She yielded at the first, it had been fatal. [Aside. Jul. It seems your lordship speaks to one you know not. Lord B. But I desire to know you better, lady. Jul. Better I should desire, my lord. Lord B. Better or worse, if you dare venture one, I'll hazard t'other. Jul. 'Tis your lordship's mirth. Lord B. You're in the right, 'tis the best mirth of all. Jul. I'll not believe, my lord, you mean so wantonly As you profess. Lord B. Refuse me, if I do not. Not mean? I hope you have more charity Than to suspect, I'll not perform as much, And more than I have said; I knew my fault, I am too modest when I undertake, But when I am to act, let me alone. Tri. You shall be alone no longer.—[Comes forward. My good lord. Lord B. Frank Trier. Tri. Which side holds your honour Lord B. I am o' thy side, Frank. Tri. I think so, For all the Park's against me; but six to four Is odds enough. Jul. Is it so much against you? Tri. Lady, I think 'tis two to one. Lord B. We were on even terms till you came hither.— I find her yielding.—And when do they run? Tri. They say presently. Lord B. Will you venture anything, lady? Tri. Perhaps she reserves herself for the horse-race. Jul. There I may venture somewhat with his lordship. Lord B. That was a witty one. [Aside. Tri. You will be doing. Lord B. You are for the footmen. Tri. I run with the company. Enter RIDER and VENTURE. Vent. I'll go your half. Rid. No, thank you, Jack; would I had ten pieces more on't! Lord B. Which side? Rid. On the Irishman. Lord B. Done; I'll maintain the English. As many more with you; I love to cherish our own countrymen. Vent. 'Tis done, my lord. Tri. I'll rook for once; my lord, I'll hold you twenty more. Lord B. Done with you, too. Jul. Your lordship is very confident. Lord B. I'll lay with you, too. Tri. Lie with her, he means. [Aside. Lord B. Come; you shall venture something. What gold against a kiss? but if you lose, You shall pay it formally down upon my lip. Tri. Though she should win, it would be held extortion To take your money. Jul. Rather want of modesty, A greater sin, if you observe the circumstance. I see his lordship has a disposition To be merry, but proclaim not this free lay To every one; some women in the world Would hold you all day. Lord B. But not all night, sweet lady. Vent. Will you not see them, my lord? Lord B. Frank Trier, you'll wait upon this gentlewoman; I must among the gamesters, I shall quickly Return to kiss your hand. [Exit. Tri. How do you like this gallant? Jul. He's one it becomes not me to censure. Tri. Do you not find him coming? a wild gentleman; You may in time convert him. Jul. You made me acquainted with him to that purpose, It was your confidence; I'll do what I can, Because he is your noble friend, and one In whom was hid so much perfection Of honour, for at first 'twas most invisible, But it begins to appear, and I do perceive A glimmering, it may break out a flame, I shall know all his thoughts at our next conference; He has a secret to impart, he says, Only to me. Tri. And will you hear it? Jul. Yes, sir; If it be honourable, there is no harm in't, If otherwise, you do not doubt my innocence. Tri. But do not tempt a danger. Jul. From his lordship? Tri. I do not say from him. Jul. From mine own frailty? Tri. I dare not conclude that, but from the matter Of his discourse, on which there may depend A circumstance, that may not prove so happy. Jul. Now I must tell you, sir, I see your heart Is not so just as I deserve; you have Engaged me to this conversation, Provoked by jealous thoughts, and now your fear Betrays your want of goodness, for he never Was right at home, that dare suspect his mistress. Can love degenerate in noble breasts? Collect the arguments, that could invite you To this unworthy trial, bring them to My forehead, where you shall inscribe their names For virgins to blush at me, if I do not Fairly acquit myself. Tri. Nay, be not passionate. Jul. I am not, sir, so guilty to be angry; But you shall give me leave, unless you will Declare, you dare not trust me any further, Not to break off so rudely with his lordship. I will hear what he means to say to me, And if my counsel may prevail with you, You shall not interrupt us; have but patience, I'll keep the story for you, and assure My ends have no base mixture, nor my love To you could bribe me to the least dishonour, Much less a stranger; since I have gone so far By your commission, I will proceed A little further, at my peril, sir. Tri. I know thou art proof against a thousand engines. Pursue what ways you please. [They walk aside. Enter LACY, Mistress BONAVENT, Mistress CAROL, and Servant. Jul. This morning married?— Tri. That's your brother's mistress. Jul. She that jeers All within gun-shot? Tri. In the way of suitors, She is reported such a tyrant. Jul. My brother. Enter FAIRFIELD. Fair. Frank Trier. Jul. Brother, do you know that gentlewoman? Fair. 'Tis she; then you and I must seem more familiar, And you—[To LACY.]—shall not be angry, Lacy. What gentlewoman's that? Tri. She does not know thee. Mis. Car. [Seeing FAIRFIELD and JULIETTA.]—Was this his reason? [Aside.]—Pray, if you love me, let's Walk by that gentleman. Lacy. Master Fairfield. Mis. Car. Is that well-trussed gentleman one of them that run? Mis. Bon. Your sweetheart. Mis. Car. Ha, ha! I'd laugh at that. If you allow a bushel of salt to acquaintance, Pray vouchsafe two words to a bargain, while you live, I scarce remember him.—Keep in, great heart. [Aside. Enter BONAVENT. Lacy. Oh sir, you are very well met here. Bona. We are met indeed, sir; thank you for your music. Lacy. It is not so much worth. Bona. I made you merry, Master Bridegroom. Lacy. I could not choose but laugh. Bona. Be there any races here? Lacy. Yes, sir, horse and foot. Bona. You'll give me leave to take my course, then. Mis. Car. This is the captain that did dance. Bona. Not so nimbly as your wit; pray let me ask you a question, [Takes Mistress CAROL aside. I hear that gentlewoman's married. Mis. Car. Married! without question, sir. Bona. Do you think he has been aforehand? Mis. Car. How do you mean? Bona. In English, has he played the forward gamester, And turned up trump? Mis. Car. Before the cards be shuffled?— I lay my life you mean a coat card. Deal again, you gave one too many In the last trick, yet I'll tell you what I think. Bona. What? Mis. Car. I think she and you might have shown more wit. Bona. Why she and I? Mis. Car. She to have kept herself a widow, and you Not to have asked me such a foolish question; But if she had been half so wise, as in My conscience she is honest, you have missed That excellent occasion, to show Your notable skill in dancing; but it pleased The learned Destinies to put things together, And so we separate. [They come forward. Bona. Fare you well, mistress. Mis. Car. [To RIDER.]—Come hither; go to that gentleman, Master Fairfield— [Whispers him. Mis. Bon. Prithee, sweetheart, who runs? Lacy. An Irish and an English footman. Mis. Bon. Will they run this way? Lacy. Just before you; I must have a bet. [Exit. Mis. Bon. Nay, nay, you shall not leave me. Mis. Car. Do it discreetly; [Exit RIDER.] I must speak to him, To ease my heart, I shall burst else, [Aside. We'll expect 'em here.—Cousin, do they run naked? Mis. Bon. That were a most immodest sight. Mis. Car. Here have been such fellows, cousin. Mis. Bon. It would fright the women. Mis. Car. Some are of opinion it brings us hither. [Noise within. Hark, what a confusion of tongues there is! Let you and I venture a pair of gloves Upon their feet; I'll take the Irish. Mis. Bon. 'Tis done; but you shall pay if you lose. Mis. Car. Here's my hand, you shall have the gloves, if you win. [A cry within.] A Teague! a Teague! Make way, for shame! Mis. Bon. I think they are started. The two Runners cross the stage, followed by Lord BONVILE, VENTURE, and others. Lord B. I hold any man forty pieces, yet. Vent. A hundred pounds to ten! a hundred pieces to ten! will no man take me? Bona. I hold you, sir. Vent. Well, you shall see.— [Within.]—A Teague! a Teague! hey! Tri. Ha! well run Irish! [Exeunt all but Mis. CAROL and Mis. BONAVENT. Mis. Bon. He may be in a bog anon. Mis. Car. Can they tell what they do in this noise? Pray Heaven it do not break into the tombs At Westminster, and wake the dead. Re-enter FAIRFIELD and JULIETTA. Fair. She's yonder still, she thinks thee a new mistress. Jul. I observe her. Re-enter TRIER. Fair. How go things, Frank? Prithee, observe that creature. Tri. She leers this way. Fair. I have done such a strange cure upon her! She has sent for me, and I entreat thee, Frank, To be a witness of my triumph; 'tis Now in my power to punish all her jeers; But I'll go to her: thou shalt keep at distance, Only to hear how miraculously I have brought things about. Tri. The cry returns. [Exeunt FAIRFIELD and TRIER. [Within.]—Make way there! a Teague! a Teague! a Teague! The two Runners re-cross the stage, followed by Lord BONVILE, VENTURE, BONAVENT. &c. Vent. Forty, fifty, a hundred pieces to ten! Bona. I hold you. Vent. Well, you shall see, you shall see. Bona. This gentleman does nothing but talk; he makes good no bet. Vent. Talk? you prate; I'll make good what I please, sir. Bona. Make the best you can of that. [They switch, and then draw. Mis. Bon. For Heaven's sake, let's remove. Mis. Car. What! for a naked weapon? [Exeunt Mis. BONAVENT and CAROL. Lord B. Fight, gentlemen, You are fine fellows, 'tis a noble cause.— [Exeunt VENTURE and BONAVENT. Come, lady, I'll discharge your fears. A cup of sack, and Anthony at the Rose. Will reconcile their furies. [Exeunt BONVILE and JULIETTA. SCENE II.—Another part of the Park. Enter FAIRFIELD and TRIER. Fair. I make a doubt whether I should go to her, Upon a single summons. Tri. By any means. Fair. What women are forbidden They're mad to execute; she's here, be you In the reach of her voice, and see how I will humble her. Enter Mistress CAROL and RIDER. Mis. Car. But keep at some fit distance. Rid. You honour me, and shall Command me any service. [Exit. Mis. Car. He has gone a strange way to work with me. [Aside. Fair. Well advised; observe and laugh, without a noise. [TRIER drops behind. Mis. Car. I am ashamed to think what I must say now. [Aside. Fair. By your leave, lady! I take it you sent for me? Mis. Car. You will not be so impudent? I send for you! By whom, or when? Fair. Your servant— Mis. Car. Was a villain, if he mentioned I had any such desire; he told me, indeed, You courted him to entreat me, that I would Be pleased to give you another audience, And that you swore, I know not what, confound you, You would not trouble me above six words. Fair. You are prettily disposed. Mis. Car. With much ado, you see, I have consented. What is it you would say? Fair. Nay, what is't you would say? Mis. Car. Have you no prompter, to insinuate The first word of your studied oration?— He's out on's part.—Come, come, I will imagine it, Was it not something to this purpose—"Lady," Or "Mistress," or what you will, "although I must confess, you may with justice laugh at My most ridiculous suit, and you will say I am a fool—" Fair. You may say any thing. Mis. Car. "To come again, whom you have so tormented; For ne'er was simple camomile so trod on, Yet still I grow in love; but since there is No hope to thaw your heart, I now am desperate; Oh give me, lend me but the silken tie About your leg, which some do call a garter, To hang myself, and I am satisfied." Am not I a witch? Fair. I think thou art past it. Which of the Furies art thou made already? I shall depart the world, ne'er fear it, lady, Without a necklace. Did not you send for me? Tri. I shall laugh aloud sure. Mis. Car. What madness has possessed you? have I not sworn, You know by what, never to think well of you, Of all men living, not to desire your company? And will you still intrude? Shall I be haunted For ever? no place give me privilege? Oh man, what art thou come to? Fair. Oh woman! How far thy tongue and heart do live asunder! Come, I have found you out; off with this veil, It hides not your complexion; I do tell thee, I see thy heart, and every thought within it; A little peevishness, to save your credit, Had not been much amiss, but this over- Over-doing the business,—it appears Ridiculous, like my suit, as you inferred; But I forgive thee, and forget thy tricks And trillabubs, and will swear to love thee heartily; Wenches must have their ways. Mis. Car. Pardon me, sir, if I have seemed too light; It was not rudeness from my heart, but a Disguise to save my honour, if I found You still incredulous. Fair. I love thee better For thy vagaries. Mis. Car. In vain, I see, I should dissemble with you, I must confess you have caught me; had you still Pursued the common path, I had fled from you; You found the constitution of women In me, whose will, not reason, is their law; Most apt to do, what most they are forbidden, Impatient of curbs, in their desires. Fair. Thou say'st right, Mis. Car. Oh love, I am thy captive;— But I am forsworn, am I not, sir? Fair. Ne'er think of that. Mis. Car. Ne'er think on't! Fair. 'Twas a vain oath, and well may be dispensed with. Mis. Car. Oh, sir, be more religious; I never Did violate an oath in all my life; Though I have been wild, I had a care of that. An oath's a holy obligation, And never dreaming of this chance, I took it With true intention to perform your wishes. Fair. 'Twas but a kiss, I'll give it thee again. Mis. Car. But 'tis enrolled in that high court already. I must confess, I could look on you now With other eyes, for my rebellious heart Is soft and capable of love's impression; Which may prove dangerous, if I cherish it, Having forsworn your love. Fair. Now I am fitted! I have made twigs to jerk myself. [Aside.]—Well thought on! You shall absolve yourself; your oath does not Oblige you to perform what you excepted, And among them, if you remember, you Said you must have your humour, you'd be sick else; Now, if your humour be to break your oath, Your obligation's void. Mis. Car. You have relieved me! But do not triumph in your conquest, sir, Be modest in your victory. Fair. Will not you Fly off again, now you're at large? Mis. Car. If you Suspect it, call some witness of my vows, I will contract myself. Fair. And I am provided.— Frank Trier, appear, and shew thy physnomy.— He is a friend of mine, and you may trust him. [TRIER comes forward. Mis. Car. What sum of money is it you would borrow? Tri. I borrow? Mis. Car. This gentleman, your friend, has fully Possessed me with your wants; nay, do not blush, Debt is no sin: though my own monies, sir, Are all abroad, yet, upon good security, Which he answers you can put in, I will speak To a friend of mine. Fair. What security? Mis. Car. Yourselves, and two sufficient aldermen, For men are mortal, and may break. Fair. What mean you? Mis. Car. You shall have fifty pounds for forty weeks, To do you a pleasure. Fair. You'll not use me thus? Tri. Fare you well; You have miraculously brought things about. [Exit. Mis. Car. You work by stratagem and ambuscado. Do you not think yourself a proper gentleman, Whom by your want of hair some hold a wit too? You know my heart, and every thought within it! How I am caught! do I not melt like honey I' the dog-days? Why do you look so staring? Fair. Do not you love me for all this? Mis. Car. Would I had art enough to draw your picture, It would show rarely at the Exchange; you have A medley in your face of many nations: Your nose is Roman, which your next debauchment At tavern, with the help of pot or candlestick, May turn to Indian, flat; your lip is Austrian, And you do well to bite it; for your chin, It does incline to the Bavarian poke, But seven years may disguise it with a beard, And make it—more ill favoured; you have eyes, Especially when you goggle thus, not much Unlike a Jew's, and yet some men might take 'em For Turk's by the two half moons that rise about 'em.— I am an infidel to use him thus. [Aside. Fair. Till now, I never was myself; farewell For ever, woman, not worth love or anger. Mis. Car. Do you hear? one word.—I'd fain speak kindly to him. [Aside. Why dost not rail at me? Fair. No, I will laugh at thee, and at myself, To have been so much a fool; you are a fine may game. Mis. Car. I shall fool too much. [Aside.]—But one word more; By all the faith and love of womankind, Believe me now—it will not out. [Aside. Fair. Farewell; When next I doat upon thee, be a monster. Mis. Car. Hark, sir, the nightingale; there is better luck Coming towards us. Fair. When you are out of breath, You will give over; and for better luck, I do believe the bird, for I can leave thee, And not be in love with my own torment. Mis. Car. How, sir? Fair. I have said; stay you and practise with the bird, 'Twas Philomel, they say; an thou wert one, I should new ravish thee. [Exit. Mis. Car. I must to the coach and weep, my heart will break else; I'm glad he does not see me. [Exit. ACT THE FOURTH. SCENE I.—Another part of the Park. Enter Lord BONVILE and JULIETTA. JUL. Whither will you walk, my lord? you may engage Yourself too far, and lose your sport. Lord B. I would Go farther for a little sport; you mean The horse-race; they're not come into the Park yet, I might do something else, and return time Enough to win five hundred pieces. Jul. Your lordship had no fortune in the last match; I wished your confidence a happier success. Lord B. We must lose sometimes.—Hark the nightingale! Jul. You win, my lord, I dare engage myself. Lord B. You make the omen fortunate; this bird Doth prophesy good luck. Jul. 'Tis the first time I heard it. Lord B. And I, this spring; let's walk a little further. Jul. I am not weary, but— Lord B. You may trust your person, lady. Jul. I were too much wicked to suspect your honour, And in this place. Lord B. This place! the place were good enough, If you were bad enough, and as prepared As I. There have been stories, that some have Struck many deer within the Park. Jul. Foul play. If I did think your honour had a thought To venture at unlawful game, I should Have brought less confidence. Enter TRIER, at a distance. Lord B. Ha! Trier? What, does he follow us? Jul. To show I dare Be hold upon your virtue, take no notice, I'll waft him back again; my lord, walk forward. [Waves her hand, and exit with Lord BONVILE. Tri. Thus far alone? yet why do I suspect? Hang jealousy, 'tis naught, it breeds too many Worms in our brains; and yet she might have suffered me— Enter LACY and Mistress BONAVENT. Master Lacy, and his bride! Mis. Bon. I was wont to have one always in my chamber. Lacy. Thou shalt have a whole quire of nightingales. Mis. Bon. I heard it yesterday warble so prettily! Lacy. They say 'tis lucky, when it is the first Bird that salutes our ear. Mis. Bon. Do you believe it? Tri. I am of his mind, and love a happy augury. Lacy. Observe the first note always— [Within.] Cuckoo! Lacy. Is this the nightingale? Mis. Bon. Why do you look so? Lacy. Are not we married? I would not have been a bachelor to have heard it. Mis. Bon. To them they say 'tis fatal. Tri. And to married men Cuckoo is no delightful note; I shall Be superstitious. Mis. Bon. Let's walk a little further. Lacy. I wait upon thee. ["Cuckoo!" again within.] Hark, still, ha, ha, ha! [Exeunt Mistress BONAVENT and LACY. Tri. I am not much in love with the broad ditty. Enter FAIRFIELD. Fair. Frank Trier, I have been seeking thee About the Park. Tri. What to do? Fair. To be merry for half an hour; I find A scurvy melancholy creep upon me, I'll try what sack will do; I have sent my footman To the Maurice for a bottle, we shall meet him. I'll tell thee t'other story of my lady. Tri. I'll wait on you. Fair. But that she is my sister, I'd have thee forswear women; but let's walk. [Exeunt. SCENE II.—The same. Enter BONAVENT. Bona. This way they marched; I hope they will not leap The pale; I do not know the disposition Of my capering gentleman, and therefore 'twill not Be indiscretion to observe him; things Must be a little better reconciled.— The nightingale!—this can presage no hurt, But I shall lose my pigeons;—they are in view, Fair and far off. [Exit. SCENE III.—Another part of the same. Enter VENTURE and RIDER. Vent. He must be a Pegasus that beats me. Rid. Yet your confidence may deceive you; you will ride Against a jockey, that has horsemanship. Vent. A jockey! a jackanapes on horseback rather; A monkey or a masty dog would show A giant to him; an I were Alexander, I would lay the world upon my mare; she shall Run with the devil for a hundred pieces, Make the match who will. Rid. Not I, you shall excuse me, Nor would I win his money. Vent. Whose? Rid. The devil's; My gold has burnt this twelve months in my pocket; A little of his amongst, would scorch my thighs, And make such tinder of my linings, that My breeches never after would hold money; But let this pass; where's Lacy and his bride? Vent. They are walked to hear the nightingale. Rid. The nightingale! I have not heard one this year Vent. Listen, and we shall hear one presently. [Within.]—Cuckoo! Vent. The bird speaks to you. Rid. No, 'tis to you. Vent. Now do I suspect I shall lose the race. Rid. Despair for a cuckoo! Vent. A cuckoo will not flatter, His word will go before a gentleman's, In the city; 'tis an understanding bird, And seldom fails; a cuckoo! I'll hedge in My money presently. Rid. For shame, be confident. Vent. Will you go half? Rid. I'll go it all, or any thing. Vent. Hang cuckoos then. Enter Lord BONVILE, JULIETTA, LACY, and Mistress BONAVENT. Lord B. How now, gentlemen? Vent. Your honour's servants. Rid. Ladies, I kiss your hands. Lord B. You are the man will run away with all The gold anon. Vent. Your jockey must fly else. Rid. I'll hold your honour thirty pieces more. Lord B. 'Tis done. Jul. Do you ride yourself? Vent. I shall have the reins in my own hand, lady. Mis. B. Master Rider, saw you not my cousin? Enter Mistress CAROL. Cry mercy, she is here.—I thought you'd followed us. Lord B. Your kinswoman?— I shall be honoured to be your servant, lady. Mis. Car. Alas, my lord, you'll lose by't! Lord B. What? Mis. Car. Honour, by being my servant; here's a brace Of gentlemen will tell you as much. Vent. But will Say nothing, for our credits. Mis. Bon. You look as you had wept. Mis. Car. I weep! For what? Come towards the lodge, and drink a syllabub. Mis. Bon. A match! Lacy. And as we walk, Jack Venture, thou shalt sing The song thou mad'st o' the horses. Vent. You shall pardon me. Rid. What, among friends? my lord, if you'd speak to him. Lord B. A song by all means, Prithee let me entreat it; what's the subject? Lacy. Of all the running horses. Vent. Horses and mares, put them together. Lord B. Let's have it; come, I hear you can sing rarely, Rid. An excellent voice. Lacy. A ravishing tone. Vent. 'Tis a very ballad, my lord, and a coarse tune. Lord B. The better; why, does any tune become A gentleman so well as a ballad? hang Curiosity in music; leave those crotchets To men that get their living with a song.— Come, come, begin. [VENTURE sings SONG. Come, Muses all, that dwell nigh the fountain. Made by the wingèd horse's heel, Which firked with his rider over each mountain, Let me your galloping raptures feel. I do not sing of fleas, or frogs, Nor of the well-mouthed hunting dogs. Let me be just, all praises must Be given to well-breathed Jilian Thrust. Young Constable and Kill Deer's famous, The Cat, the Mouse, and Neddy Gray; With nimble Peggybrig, you cannot shame us With Spaniard nor with Spinola. Hill-climbing White Rose praise doth not lack, Handsome Dunbar, and Yellow Jack; But if I be just, all praises must Be given to well-breathed Jilian Thrust. Sure-spurred Sloven, true-running Robin, Of Young Shaver I do not say less, Strawberry Soam, and let Spider pop in, Fine Brackly, and brave Lurching Bess. Victorious too was Herring Shotten, And Spit-in's-arse is not forgotten; But if I be just, all honour must Be given to well-breathed Jilian Thrust. Lusty George, and, gentlemen, hark yet, To winning Mackarel, fine-mouthed Freak, Bay Tarrall, that won the cup at Newmarket, Thundering Tempest, Black Dragon eke. Precious Sweet Lips, I do not lose, Nor Toby with his golden shoes; But if I be just, all honour must Be given to well-breathed Jilian Thrust. Lord B. Excellent! how think you, lady? Jul. I like it very well. Mis. Car. I never thought you were a poet, sir. Vent. No, no, I do but dabble. Mis. Car. You can sing rarely too; how were these parts Unobserved, invisible? Vent. You may see, lady. Jul. Good sir, your pardon. Vent. Do you love singing? hum; la, la. [Sings. Mis. Car. Who would have thought these qualities were in you? Vent. Now or never. Mis. Car. Why, I was cozened. Vent. You are not the first I have cozened; shall I wash Your faces with the drops of Helicon? I have fancies in my head. Mis. Car. Like Jupiter, you want a Vulcan but To cleave your skull, and out peeps bright Minerva. Jul. When you return I'll tell you more, my lord. Vent. Give me a subject. Mis. Bon. Prithee coz, do. Mis. Car. Let it be—How much you dare suffer for me. Vent. Enough—hum, fa, la, la. Enter Page. Page. Master Venture, you are expected. Lord B. Are they come? Page. This half hour, my lord. Lord B. I must see the mare: you will excuse this rudeness.— Sirrah, stay you, and wait upon these ladies. [Exit Lord BONVILE. Vent. 'Tis time to make me ready.— Ladies, I take this leave in prose, You shall see me next in other feet. [Exit. Rid. I wish your syllabub were nectar, lady. Mis. Bon. We thank you, sir, and here it comes already. Enter Milkmaid with a bowl. Jul. So, so; is it good milk? Mis. Bon. Of a red cow? Mis. Car. You talk as you inclined to a consumption; Is the wine good? Milk. It comes from his Excellence' head. Mis. Car. My service to you, lady, and to him Your thoughts prefer. Mis. Bon. A health! Mis. Car. No deep one; 'tis lawful for gentlewomen To wish well to their friends. Jul. You have obliged me—the wishes of all happiness To him your heart hath chosen! Mis. Bon. Duty now Requires I should be willing to receive it: As many joys to you both, when you are married! Mis. Car. Married? Jul. You have not vowed to die a virgin, I know an humble servant of your's, lady. Mis. Car. Mine! Jul. Would be sorry you should be a nun. Mis. Car. Do you think he loves me, then? Jul. I do not think He can dissemble where he does profess Affection; I know his heart by mine: Fairfield is my brother! Mis. Car. Your brother? then the danger's not so great; But let us change our argument. With your pardon, Come hither, pretty one; how old are you? Page. I am young, lady; I hope you do not take me for a dwarf. Mis. Bon. How young, I pray then? Page. Four summers since my life was questioned, And then a jury of years did pass upon me. Mis. Car. He is upon the matter, then, fifteen. Page. A game at noddy. Mis. Car. You can play your cards already, it seems: Come, drink of this syllabub. Page. I shall spoil your game, ladies; For if there be sack in it, it may make You flush a three. Jul. The boy would seem witty. Page. I hope, ladies, you will pardon me; my lord commanded me to wait upon you, and I can do you no better service than to make you laugh. Enter FAIRFIELD and TRIER. Fair. They're here, bless you! Mis. Bon. Master Fairfield, you are welcome. Fair. I presume so, but howsoever it skills not. Tri. I do not come to borrow money. Mis. Car. And yet all they that do so are no fools; Money or lands make not a man the wiser, I know handsome gentlemen have pawned their clothes. Tri. I'll pawn my skin too, with a woman. Mis. Car. Wipe your mouth; here's to you, sir! Tri. I'll pledge you, quicksilver. Where is your lord? Page.He has left Virgo, sir, to go to Libra, To see the horsemen weighed. Tri. Lady, my service! Jul. Brother, you interpose too far; my lord Has used me honourably, and I must tell you, Somebody has made a fault. Mis. Bon. Master Fairfield! Fair. I kiss your hand. Tri. My lord and you have walked. Jul. Yes, sir. Fair. My sister shall excuse; here's to thee and thy cream bowl. Milk. I thank your worship. Fair. There is more honesty in thy petticoat, Than twenty satin ones. Mis. Bon. Do you know that? Fair. I know by her pail; an she were otherwise, T'would turn her milk.—Come hither, let me kiss thee. [Kisses the Milkmaid. Now I am confirmed, he that shall marry thee Shall take thee a virgin at my peril. Mis. Bon. Have you such skill in maidenheads? Fair. I'll know't by a kiss, Better than any doctor by her urine.— Be merry with thy cow, farewell!—Come, Frank: That wit and good clothes should infect a woman! Jul. I'll tell you more hereafter; pray let's hear Who wins. Tri. Your servant, ladies. [Exeunt FAIRFIELD and TRIER. Enter Jockey and Gentlemen. 1st Gent. What dost think, Jockey? 2nd Gent. The crack o' the field's against you. Jock. Let 'em crack nuts. 1st Gent. What weight? 2nd Gent. I think he has the heels. 3rd Gent. Get but the start. Jock. However, if I get within his quarters Let me alone. 3rd Gent. Montez à cheval. [Exeunt. [Confused noise of betting within, after that a shout. Mis. Car. They are started. Re-enter Lord BONVILE, RIDER, TRIER, and FAIRFIELD. Rid. Twenty pounds to fifteen! Lord B. 'Tis done wi' ye! Fair. Forty pounds to thirty! Lord B. Done! done! I'll take all odds. Tri. My lord, I hold as much. Lord B. Not so. Tri. Forty pounds to twenty. Lord B. Done, done! Re-enter LACY. Lacy. You have lost all, my lord, an it were a million. Lord B. In your imagination; who can help it? Lacy. Venture had the start, and keeps it. Lord B. Gentlemen, you have a fine time to triumph, 'Tis not your odds that makes you win. [Within.] Venture! Venture! [Exeunt all but the ladies. Jul. Shall we venture nothing o' the horses? What odds against my lord! Mis. Car. Silk stockings. Jul. To a pair of perfumed gloves? I take it. Mis. Car. Done! Mis. Bon. And I as much. Jul. Done, with you both! Mis. Car. I'll have 'em Spanish scent. Jul. The stockings shall be scarlet; if you choose Your scent, I'll choose my colour. Mis. Car. 'Tis done; if Venture Knew but my lay, it would half break his neck now. [A shout within, and cry of A jockey! Jul. Ha! is the wind in that coast? hark! the noise Is jockey now. Mis. Car. 'Tis but a pair of gloves. [Within.] A jockey! Jul. Still it holds.— Re-enter Lord BONVILE. How have you sped, my lord? Lord B. Won, won! I knew by instinct The mare would put some trick upon him. Mis. Bon. Then we have lost; but, good my lord, the circumstance. Lord B. Great John-at-all-adventure, and grave Jockey. Mounted their several mares.—I shall not tell The story out for laughing, ha, ha, ha!— But this in brief—Jockey was left behind, The pity and the scorn of all; the odds Played 'bout my ears like cannon, but less dangerous. I took all still, the acclamations were For Venture, whose disdainful mare threw dirt In my old Jockey's face, all hopes forsaking us, Two hundred pieces desperate, and two thousand Oaths sent after them, upon the sudden, When we expected no such trick, we saw My rider, that was domineering ripe, Vault o'er his mare into a tender slough, Where he was much beholding to one shoulder, For saving of his neck; his beast recovered, And he by this time somewhat mortified, Besides mortarified,^1^ hath left the triumph To his Olympic adversary, who shall Ride hither in full pomp on his Bucephalus, With his victorious bagpipe. Mis. Car. I would fain see How Venture looks. Lord B. He's here; ha, ha! Enter VENTURE, covered with mud, and RIDER. Vent. I told you as much before; You would not believe the cuckoo. Mis. Car. Why, how now, sir? Vent. An I had broke my neck in a clean way, 'Twould ne'er have grieved me.—Lady, I am your's; Thus Cæsar fell. Lord B. Not in a slough, dear Jack. Vent. You shall hear further from me. Rid. Come to Knightsbridge. Vent. That cuckoo was a witch, I'll take my death on't. [Exit. Lord B. Here comes the conqueror. Enter a Bagpiper, and Jockey in triumph, followed by BONAVENT, TRIER, and FAIRFIELD. "Lo, from the conquest of Jerusalem Returns Vespasian!"—Ha, ha! mer—mercy, Jockey. Jock. I told you, if I came within his quarters. All. A jockey, a jockey! [Exeunt all but LACY, his Bride, and Mistress CAROL. Re-enter BONAVENT and Bagpiper. Bona. This shall be but your earnest; [Gives him money.]—follow me At pretty distance, and when I say "draw," Play me a galliard.—By your favour, sir, Shall I speak a cool word with you? Lacy. With all my heart. Bona. You do owe me a dance, if you remember, And I will have it now; no dispute.—Draw! [Bagpiper plays. LACY draws his sword. That will not serve your turn; come, shake your heels, You hear a tune; I will not change my tool For a case of rapiers; keep off, at your perils, I have sworn. Mis. Bon. For Heaven's sake some to part 'em. Lacy. Dost hear? Bona. And you may hear the bagpipe is not dumb: Will you to this gear? or do you mean to try [Draws his sword. How this will scower you? Come, come, I will have it. Lacy. Hold! I will. [He dances, meantime enter Lord BONVILE and TRIER. Bona. So; now we are on equal terms, and if You like it not, I'll use my t'other instrument. Lacy. Thou art a brave fellow; come your ways. Lord B. Hold! You shall not fight, I'll understand your quarrel. Lacy. Good my lord. Let's have one pass. Mis. Bon. Your weapons shall run through me; And I must tell you, sir, you have been injurious— Bona. Good lady, why? in doing myself right? Mis. Bon. In wronging me. Bona. I am not sensible of that. Mis. Bon. Could any shame be fastened upon him, Wherein I have no share? Bona. I was provoked By him, if you remember, and was not Born so unequal to him, I should suffer His poor affront. Mis. Bon. This was a day of peace, The day wherein the holy priest hath tied Our hearts together; Hymen's tapers yet Are burning, and it cannot be a sin Less than a sacrilege, to extinguish them With blood, and in contempt of Heaven's proceeding, Thus to conspire our separation. No Christian would profane the marriage day: And when all other wish us joys, could you Intrude yourself to poison all our mirth, Blast, in the very budding, all our happiness Our hopes had laid up for us? Bona. I was a stranger. Mis. Bon. That makes you more uncivil; we were merry, Which could not offend you. Bona. I had no thought To violate your mirth. Mis. Bon. What came you for? With whom had you acquaintance? or what favour Gave you access, at so unfit a time, To interrupt our calm and free delights? You cannot plead any abuse, where you Were never known, that should incite you to Revenge it there: I take it you were never His rival. Bona. 'Tis confessed. Mis. Bon. What malice then Prevailed above your reason to pursue us With this injustice? Bona. Lady, give me leave. I were a villain to be guilty of The baseness you accuse me: your servant Shall quit me from intrusion, and my soul Is my best witness, that I brought no malice But unstained thoughts into your roof; but when I was made the common laughter, I had been Less than a man, to think of no return, And had he been the only of my blood, I would not be so much the shame of soldier, To have been tamed, and suffered; and you are Too hasty in your judgment; I could say more, But 'tis dishonour to expostulate These causes with a woman: I had reason To call him to account, you know not all My provocation; things are not with me As with another man. Mis. Bon. How is that? the matter May spread too far; some former quarrel,—'tis My best to reconcile 'em. [Aside.]—Sir, I may Be ignorant; if anything have passed Before this morning, I pray pardon me; But as you are a gentleman, let me Prevail, your differences may here conclude; 'Las, I am part of him now, and between A widow and his wife, if I be thus Divorced— Bona. I'll be his servant. Mis. Bon. Sir, you show A noble disposition.—Good my lord, Compose their differences.—Prithee meet his friendship. Bona. I have satisfaction, and desire his love. Lacy. Thou hast done but like a gentleman; thy hand, I'll love thee while I live. Lord B. Why so; all friends. Bona. I meet it with a heart; and for disturbing Your mirth to-day— Lacy. No, no disturbance. Bona. Then give me but the favour To show I wish no sorrow to the bride: I have a small oblation, which she must Accept, or I shall doubt we are not friends; 'Tis all I have to offer at your wedding. [Gives Mistress BONAVENT a paper. Mis. Bon. Ha! Bona. There's my hand To justify it at fit time.—Peruse it, My lord, I shall be studious How to deserve your favour. Lord B. I am yours. Lacy. My lord, let me obtain you'll honour me To-night. [Mistress BONAVENT walks aside with the paper, and reads. "I was taken by a Turkish pirate, and detained many years a prisoner in an island, where I had died his captive, had not a worthy merchant thence redeemed and furnished me."— Mis. Bon. Blessed delivery! Enter a Servant and delivers a letter to Mistress CAROL. Mis. Car. To me! from Venture? he is very mindful; [Reads. Good, I shall make use of this. Mis. Bon. [Reading.]—"Till then conceal me." Mis. Car. Excellent stuff, But I must have another name subscribed. Lord B. Will you walk, ladies? [Gives money to the Park-keepers. Mis. Car. Your servants wait upon you. Keepers. We humbly thank your honour. 2nd Keep. A brave spark. 1st Keep. Spark! he's the very Bonfire of nobility. [Exeunt. ACT THE FIFTH. SCENE I.—A Room in BONAVENT'S House. Enter LACY, Mistress BONAVENT, Lord BONVILE, JULIETTA, Mistress CAROL, and TRIER. LACY. My lord, you honour us. Mis. Bon. And what we want In honourable entertainment, we beseech Our duties may supply in your construction. Lord B. What needs this ceremony? Lacy. Thou art welcome, too, Frank Trier. Tri. I give you thanks, and wish you still more joy, sir. Mis. Bon. We'll show your lordship a poor gallery. Lacy. But, where's my new acquaintance? Mis. Bon. His nag outstripped the coaches, He'll be your guest anon, fear not! [Exeunt all but Mistress CAROL and JULIETTA. Mis. Car. While they Compliment with my lord, let you and I Change a few words. Jul. As many as you please. Mis. Car. Then to the purpose. Touching your brother, lady, 'Twere tedious to repeat he has been pleased To think well of me; and to trouble you With the discourse how I have answered it, 'Twere vain; but thus—howe'er he seem to carry it While you were present, I do find him desperate. Jul. How! Mis. Car. Nay, I speak no conjecture; I have more intelligence than you imagine. You are his sister, And nature binds you to affect his safety. By some convenient messenger send for him; But, as you love his life, do not delay it: Alas, I shall be sorry any gentleman Should, for my sake, take any desperate course. Jul. But are you serious? Mis. Car. Perhaps good counsel Applied while his despair is green, may cure him, If not— Jul. You make me wonder. Mis. Car. I know the inconsiderate will blame Me for his death; I shall be railed upon, And have a thousand cruelties thrown on me; But would you have me promise love, and flatter him? I would do much to save his life: I could Show you a paper that would make you bleed To see his resolution, and what Strange and unimitable ways he has Vowed to pursue; I tremble to think on 'em. There's not a punishment in fiction, (And poets write enough of hell, if you Have read their story,) but he'll try the worst. Were it not that I fear him every minute, And that all haste were requisite to save him, You should peruse his letter. Jul. Letter! Since We saw him? Mis. Car. Since; I must confess I wondered, But you in this shall see I have no malice. I pray send for him; as I am a gentlewoman, I have pure intention to preserve his life; And 'cause I see the truth of his affliction, Which may be your's, or mine, or anybody's, Whose passions are neglected, I will try My best skill to reduce him. Here's Master Trier. Re-enter TRIER. He now depends upon your charity; Send for him, by the love you bear a brother. Tri. Will you not chide my want of manners, gentlewomen, To interrupt your dialogue? Jul. We have done, sir. Mis. Car. I shall be still your servant. Jul. Here's a riddle; But I will do't.— Shall I presume upon you for a favour? Re-enter Lord BONVILE. Tri. You shall impose on me a greater trouble. My lord! Jul. Your ear. [Whispers TRIER. Lord B. We miss you above, lady. Jul. My lord, I wait upon you; I beseech Your pardon but a minute.—Will you do this? It is an office he may thank you for, Beside my acknowledgment. Tri. Yes, I'll go,— And yet I do not like to be sent off, This is the second time. [Aside, and exit. Jul. Now I am for your lordship. What's your pleasure? Lord B. I would be your echo, lady, and return Your last word—pleasure. Jul. May you never want it! Lord B. This will not serve my turn. Jul. What, my lord? Lord B. This is the charity of some rich men, That, passing by some monument that stoops With age, whose ruins plead for a repair, Pity the fall of such a goodly pile, But will not spare from their superfluous wealth, To be the benefactor. Jul. I acknowledge That empty wishes are their shame, that have Ability to do a noble work, And fly the action. Lord B. Come, you may apply it. I would not have you a gentlewoman of your word Alone, they're deeds that crown all; what you wish me, Is in your own ability to give; You understand me: will you at length consent To multiply? we'll 'point a place and time, And all the world shall envy us. Jul. My lord! Lord B. Lord me no lords; shall we join lips upon't? Why do you look as you still wondered at me? Do I not make a reasonable motion? Is't only in myself? shall not you share I' the delight? or do I appear a monster 'Bove all mankind, you shun my embraces thus? There be some ladies in the world have drawn Cuts for me; I have been talked on and commended, Howe'er you please to value me. Jul. Did they See you thus perfectly? Lord B. Not always; 'twas Sometimes a little darker, when they praised me. I have the same activity. Jul. You are Something—I would not name, my lord. Lord B. And yet you do; you call me lord, that's something, And you consider all men are not born to't. Jul. 'Twere better not to have been born to honours, Than forfeit them so poorly; he is truly Noble, and then best justifies his blood, When he can number the descents of virtue. Lord B. You'll not degrade me? Jul. 'Tis not in my power, Or will, my lord, and yet you press me strangely. As you are a person, separate and distinct, By your high blood, above me and my fortunes, Thus low I bend; you have no noble title Which I not bow to, they are characters Which we should read at distance, and there is Not one that shall with more devotion And honour of your birth, express her service: It is my duty, where the king has sealed His favours, I should show humility, My best obedience, to his act. Lord B. So should All handsome women, that will be good subjects. Jul. But if to all those honourable names, That marked you for the people's reverence, In such a vicious age, you dare rise up Example too of goodness, they which teach Their knees a compliment, will give their heart; And I among the number of the humblest, Most proud to serve your lordship, and would refuse No office or command, that should engage me To any noble trial; this addition Of virtue is above all shine of state, And will draw more admirers: but I must Be bold to tell you, sir, unless you prove A friend to virtue, were your honour centupled, Could you pile titles till you reach the clouds, Were every petty manor you possess A kingdom, and the blood of many princes United in your veins, with these had you A person that had more attraction Than poesy can furnish, love withal, Yet I, I in such infinite distance, am As much above you in my innocence. Lord B. This becomes not. Jul. 'Tis the first liberty I ever took to speak myself; I have Been bold in the comparison, but find not Wherein I have wronged virtue, pleading for it, Lord B. How long will you continue thus? Jul. I wish To have my last hour witness of these thoughts; And I will hope, before that time, to hear Your lordship of another mind. Lord B. I know not, 'Tis time enough to think o' that hereafter: I'll be a convertite within these two days, Upon condition you and I may have One bout to-night; nobody hears. Jul. Alas! You plunge too far, and are within this minute, Further from Heaven than ever. Lord B. I may live to Requite the courtesy. Jul. Live, my lord, to be Your country's honour and support, and think not Of these poor dreams. Lord B. I find not Desire to sleep;—an I were abed with you— Jul. 'Tis not improbable, my lord, but you May live to be an old man, and fill up A seat among the grave nobility; When your cold blood shall starve your wanton thoughts, And your slow pulse beat like your body's knell, When time hath snowed upon your hair, oh then Will it be any comfort to remember The sins of your wild youth? how many wives Or virgins you have dishonoured? in their number, Would any memory of me (should I Be sinful to consent), not fetch a tear From you, perhaps a sigh, to break your heart? Will you not wish then you had never mixed With atheists, and those men whose wits are vented In oaths and blasphemy, (now the pride of gentlemen,) That strike at Heaven, and make a game of thunder? Lord B. If this be true, what a wretched thing should I Appear now, if I were any thing but a lord? I do not like myself.— [Aside. Give me thy hand; since there's no remedy, Be honest!—there's no harm in this, I hope. I will not tell thee all my mind at once; If I do turn Carthusian, and renounce Flesh upon this, the devil is like to have The worst on't. But I am expected. [Exit. Jul. My lord, I'll follow you.— Enter FAIRFIELD and TRIER. Brother, welcome!— Sir, we are both obliged to you. A friend of your's desires some private conference. Fair. With me? Jul. He does not look so desperate.— [Aside. How do you, brother? Fair. Well:—dost not see me?— Jul. I'll come to you presently. [Exit. Fair. What's the meaning? Tri. Nay, I know not; She is full of mysteries of late. Re-enter JULIETTA with Mistress CAROL. She's here again; there is some trick in it. Jul. Brother, I sent for you, and I think 'twas time; Pray hearken to this gentlewoman, she will Give you good counsel.—You and I withdraw, sir. Tri. Whither you please. [Exeunt JULIETTA and TRIER. Mis. Car. You are a strange gentleman; Alas! what do you mean? is it because I have dealt justly with you, without flattery Told you my heart, you'll take these wicked courses? But I am loath to chide, yet I must tell you, You are to blame; alas! you know affection Is not to be compelled; I have been as kind To you as other men, nay, I still thought A little better of you, and will you Give such example to the rest? Because, forsooth, I do not love you, will you Be desperate? Fair. Will I be desperate? Mis. Car. 'Twere a fine credit for you, but perhaps You'll go to hell to be revenged on me, And teach the other gentlemen to follow you, That men may say, 'twas long of me, and rail at My unkindness; is this all your Christianity? Or could you not prosecute your impious purpose, But you must send me word on't, and perplex My conscience with your devilish devices? Is this a letter to be sent a mistress? Fair. I send a letter? [Gives him the letter. Mis. Car. You were best deny your hand. Fair. My name subscribed! who has done this?— [Reads. "Rivers of hell, I come; Charon, thy oar Is needless, I will swim unto the shore, And beg of Pluto, and of Proserpine, That all the damnèd torments may be mine; With Tantalus I'll stand up to the chin In waves; upon Ixion's wheel I'll spin The sister's thread; quail Cerberus with my groan, And take no physic for the rolling storne: I'll drown myself a hundred times a day—" Mis. Car. There be short days in hell. Fair. "And burn myself as often, if you say The word.—" Mis. Car. Alas! not I. Fair. "And if I ever chance to come Within the confines of Elysium, The amazèd ghosts shall be aghast to see, How I will hang myself on every tree, Your's, till his neck be broke, Fairfield." Here's a strange resolution! Mis. Car. Is it not? Whither is fled your piety? but, sir, I have no meaning to exasperate Thoughts that oppose your safety, and to show I have compassion, and delight in no Man's ruin, I will frame myself to love you. Fair. Will you? why, thank you. Mis. Car. Here's my hand, I will; Be comforted; I have a stronger faith. Fair. I see then you have charity for a need. Mis. Car. I'll lose my humour to preserve a life. You might have met with some hard-hearted mistress, That would have suffered you to hang or drown Yourself. Fair. I might indeed. Mis. Car. And carried news To the distressed ghosts; but I am merciful: But do not you mistake me, for I do not This out of any extraordinary Former good will, only to save your life. There be so many beams convenient, And you may slip out of the world before We are aware; beside, you dwell too near The river; if you should be melancholy, After some tides, you would come in, and be More talked off than the pilchards; but I have done. You shall go to hell for me: I now Am very serious, and if you please To think well of me, instantly we'll marry; I'll see how I can love you afterward. Shall we to the priest? Fair. By your good favour, no; I am in no such tune. Mis. Car. You do suspect I jeer still: by my troth, I am in earnest. Fair. To save my life, you are content to marry me? Mis. Car. Yes. Fair. To save thy life, I'll not be troubled with thee. Mis. Car. How? Fair. No, madam jeer-all, I am now resolved: Talk, and talk out thy heart, I will not lose Myself a scruple; have you no more letters? They're pretty mirth; would I knew who subscribed My name! I am so far from hanging of myself, That I will live yet to be thy tormentor. Virtue, I thank thee for't! and for the more Security, I'll never doat again; Nor marry, nor endure the imagination Of your frail sex: this very night I will Be fitted for you all; I'll geld myself, 'Tis something less than hanging; and when I Have carved away all my concupiscence, Observe but how I'll triumph; nay, I'll do it, An there were no more men in the world. [Going. Mis. Car, Sir, sir! as you love goodness,— I'll tell you all; first hear me, and then execute; You will not be so foolish; I do love you. Fair. I hope so, that I may revenge thy peevishness. Mis. Car. My heart is full, and modesty forbids I should use many words; I see my folly, You may be just, and use me with like cruelty, But if you do, I can instruct myself, And be as miserable in deed as I Made you in supposition: my thoughts Point on no sensuality; remit What's past, and I will meet your best affection. I know you love me still; do not refuse me. If I go once more back, you ne'er recover me. Fair. I am as ticklish. Mis. Car. Then, let's clap it up wisely, While we are both i' the humour; I do find A grudging, and your last words stick in my stomach. Say, is't a match? speak quickly, or for ever Hereafter hold your peace. Fair. Done! Mis. Car. Why, done! Fair. Seal and deliver. Mis. Car. My hand and heart; this shall suffice till morning. Fair. Each other's now by conquest, come let's to 'em. If you should fail now!— Mis. Car. Hold me not worth the hanging. [Exeunt. SCENE II.—Another Room in the same. Enter JULIETTA, Lord BONVILE, and TRIER. Lord B. I knew not She was thy mistress, which encouraged All my discourses. Tri. My lord, you have richly satisfied me, and Now I dare write myself the happiest lover In all the world. Know lady, I have tried you. Jul. You have, it seems! Tri. And I have found thee right And perfect gold, nor will I change thee for A crown imperial. Jul. And I have tried you, And found you dross; nor do I love my heart So ill, to change it with you. Tri. How's this? Jul. Unworthily you have suspected me, And cherished that bad humour, for which know You never must have hope to gain my love. He that shall doubt my virtue, out of fancy, Merits my just suspicion and disdain. Lord B. Oh fie, Frank, practise jealousy so soon! Distrust the truth of her thou lov'st! suspect Thy own heart sooner.—What I have said I have Thy pardon for; thou wert a wife for him Whose thoughts were ne'er corrupted. Tri. 'Twas but a trial, and may plead for pardon. Jul. I pray deny me not that liberty: I will have proof, too, of the man I choose My husband; and believe me, if men be At such a loss of goodness, I will value Myself, and think no honour equal to Remain a virgin. Tri. I have made a trespass, Which if I cannot expiate, yet let me Dwell in your charity. Jul. You shall not doubt that.— Enter FAIRFIELD, Mistress CAROL, LACY, and Mistress BONAVENT. Pray, my lord, know him for your servant. Fair. I am much honoured. Lord B. You cannot but deserve more By the title of her brother. Lacy. Another couple! Mis. Bon. Master Fairfield and my cousin are contracted. Mis. Car. 'Tis time, I think; sister I'll shortly call you. Jul. I ever wished it. Fair. Frank Trier is melancholy.—How hast thou sped? Tri. No, no, I am very merry. Jul. Our banns, sir, are forbidden. Fair. On what terms? Lacy. My lord, you meet but a coarse entertainment. How chance the music speaks not? Shall we dance? Enter VENTURE and RIDER. Vent. "Rivers of hell, I come!" Rid. "Charon, thy oar Is needless."—Save you, gallants! Vent. "I will swim unto thy shore." Art not thou Hero? Mis. Car. But you are not Leander, if you be Not drowned in the Hellespont. Vent. I told thee "I would drown myself a hundred times a day." Mis. Car. Your letter did. Vent. Ah ha! Mis. Car. It was a devilish good one. Vent. Then I am come To tickle the "confines of Elysium."— My lord,—I invite you to my wedding, and all this good company. Lord B. I am glad your shoulder is recovered; When is the day? Vent. Do thou set the time. Mis. Car. After to-morrow, name it. This gentleman and I Shall be married in the morning, and you know We must have a time to dine, and dance to bed. Vent. Married? Fair. Yes, you may be a guest, sir, and be welcome. Vent. I am bobbed again! I'll bob for no more eels; let her take her course. Lacy. Oh for some willow garlands! [Recorders sound within. Enter Page, followed by BONAVENT in another disguise, with willow garlands in his hand. Lord B. This is my boy; how now, sirrah? Page. My lord, I am employed in a device. Room for the melancholy wight, Some do call him willow knight, Who this pains hath undertaken, To find out lovers are forsaken, Whose heads, because but little witted, Shall with garlands straight be fitted. Speak, who are tost on Cupid's billows, And receive the crown of willows, This way, that way, round about, [BONAVENT goes round the company with the garlands. Keep your heads from breaking out. Lacy. This is excellent! Nay, nay, gentlemen, You must obey the ceremony. Vent. He took measure of my head. Rid. And mine. Tri. It must be my fate too. [BONAVENT puts a garland on TRIER'S head. Vent. Now we be three. Bona. And if you please to try, I do not think But this would fit you excellently. Lacy. Mine! What does he mean? Mis. Bon. I prithee, Master Lacy, try for once; Nay, he has some conceit. Lacy. For thy sake, I'll do any thing; what now? [BONAVENT puts a garland on LACY'S head. Bona. You are now a mess of willow—gentlemen— And now, my lord, [Throws off his disguise.]—I'll presume to bid you welcome. [Mistress BONAVENT takes Lord BONVILE aside. Fair. Is not this the gentleman you made dance? Lacy. My new acquaintance! where's thy beard? Bona. I left it at the barber's; it grew rank, And he has reaped it. Lacy. Here, take thy toy again. [Takes off the garland. Bona. It shall not need. Lord B. You tell me wonders, lady; is this gentleman Your husband? Lacy and Mis. Car. How! her husband, my lord? Bona. Yes, indeed, lady; if you please you may Call me your kinsman: seven year and misfortune, I confess, had much disguised me, but I was, And by degrees may prove again, her husband. Mis. Bon. After a tedious absence, supposed death, Arrived to make me happy. Vent. This is rare! Bona. My lord, and gentlemen, You are no less welcome than before.—Master Lacy, Droop not. Lord B. This turn was above all expectation, And full of wonder; I congratulate Your mutual happiness. Vent. All of a brotherhood! Lacy. Master Bonavent! on my conscience it is he! Did fortune owe me this? Mis. Car. A thousand welcomes. Mis. Bon. Equal joys to thee and Master Fairfield. Lord B. Nay, then, you but obey the ceremony. Lacy. I was not ripe for such a blessing; take her, And with an honest heart I wish you joys. Welcome to life again! I see a providence In this, and I obey it. Vent. In such good company 'twould never grieve A man to wear the willow. Bona. You have but changed Your host, whose heart proclaims a general welcome. Mis. Bon. He was discovered to me in the Park, Though I concealed it. Bona. Every circumstance Of my absence, after supper we'll discourse of. I will not doubt your lordship means to honour us. Lord B. I'll be your guest, and drink a jovial health To your new marriage, and the joys of your Expected bride; hereafter you may do As much for me.—Fair lady, will you write Me in your thoughts? if I desire to be A servant to your virtue, will you not Frown on me then? Jul. Never in noble ways; No virgin shall more honour you. Lord B. By thy cure I am now myself, yet dare call nothing mine, Till I be perfect blest in being thine. [Exeunt. ^FOOTNOTE^ ^1^ Suggested by Gifford in place of the "mortified of the old copy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A SONG OF NUNS by JAMES SHIRLEY CUPID UNGODDED by JAMES SHIRLEY LOVE'S HUE AND CRY by JAMES SHIRLEY PIPING PEACE, FR. THE IMPOSTURE by JAMES SHIRLEY THE COMMONWEALTH OF BIRDS by JAMES SHIRLEY THE LADY OF PLEASURE by JAMES SHIRLEY THE TRIUMPH OF PEACE by JAMES SHIRLEY TO MY FRIEND, MASTER JOHN FORD; ON 'LOVE'S SACRIFICE' by JAMES SHIRLEY TO ONE SAYING SHE [OR, HIS MISTRESS] WAS OLD by JAMES SHIRLEY |
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