Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A FAIR QUARREL, by THOMAS MIDDLETON

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A FAIR QUARREL, by THOMAS MIDDLETON Poet's Biography
First Line: It must be all my care; there's all my love
Last Line: [exeunt.
Subject(s): Quarrels; Reconciliation; Arguments; Disagreements

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

RUSSELL, brother of Lady AGER and father of JANE.
The Colonel.
Captain AGER, son of Lady AGER.
Friends of the Colonel.
Friends of Captain AGER.
FITZALLEN, privately married to JANE.
CHOUGH, a Cornish gentleman.
TRIMTRAM, his servant.
Physician.
Surgeon.
Usher of the Roaring School.
Captain ALBO, a pander.
VAPOUR, a tobacco-seller.
Sergeants, Roarers, Servants.

Lady AGER, mother of the Captain, and sister of RUSSELL. JANE, daughter of
RUSSELL, and privately married to FITZALLEN.
The Colonel's sister.
ANNE, sister of the physician.
Dutch Nurse.
MEG, a bawd.
PRISS, a harlot.

SCENE—LONDON and its Neighbourhood.

ACT THE FIRST.

SCENE I.

A Court before RUSSELL'S House.

Enter RUSSELL

RUS. It must be all my care; there's all my love,
And that pulls on the t'other. Had I been left
In a son behind me, while I had been here
He should have shifted as I did before him,
Lived on the freeborn portion of his wit;
But a daughter, and that an only one,—O,
We cannot be too careful o' her, too tender;
'Tis such
A brittle niceness, a mere cupboard of glasses,
The least shake breaks or cracks 'em. All my aim is
To cast her upon riches; that's the thing
We rich men call perfection; for the world
Can perfect nought without it: 'tis not neatness,
Either in handsome wit or handsome outside,
With which one gentleman, far in debt, has courted her;
Which boldness he shall rue. He thinks me blind
And ignorant: I've let him play a long time,
Seemed to believe his worth, which I know nothing:
He may perhaps laugh at my easy confidence,
Which closely I requite upon his fondness
For this hour snaps him; and before his mistress,
His saint, forsooth, which he inscribes my girl,
He shall be rudely taken and disgraced.
The trick will prove an everlasting scarecrow
To fright poor gallants from our rich men's daughters.

Enter Lady AGER and two Servants.

Sister! I've such a joy to make you a welcome of,
Better you never tasted.
Lady Ager. Good, sir, spare it not.
Rus. Colonel's come, and your son Captain Ager.
Lady Ager. My son? [Weeps.
Rus. I know your eye would be first served;
That's the soul's taster still for grief or joy.
Lady Ager. O, if a mother's dear suit may prevail with him,
From England he shall never part again!
Rus. No question he'll be ruled, and grant you that.
Lady Ager. I'll bring all my desires to that request.
[Exit with Servants.
Rus. Affectionate sister! she has no daughter now;
It follows all the love must come to him,
And he has a worth deserves it, were it dearer.

Enter Friend of the Colonel and Friend of Captain
AGER.

Col.'s Fr. I must give way to't.
Rus. What's here to question? [Aside.
Col.'s Fr. Compare young Captain Ager with the colonel!
Cap.'s Fr. Young? why, do you
Make youth stand for an imputation?
That which you now produce for his disgrace
Infers his nobleness, that, being young,
Should have an anger more inclined to courage
And moderation than the colonel;
A virtue as rare as chastity in youth;
And let the cause be good—conscience in him,
Which ever crowns his acts, and is indeed
Valour's prosperity—he dares then as much
As ever made him famous that you plead for.
Col.'s Fr. Then I forbear too long.
Cap.'s Fr. His worth for me! [They fight.
Rus. Here's noble youths! belike some wench has crossed 'em,
And now they know not what to do with their blood.
[Aside.

Enter the Colonel and Captain AGER.

Col. How now?
Cap. Ager. Hold, hold! what's the incitement?
Col. So serious at your game! come, come, the quarrel?
Col.'s Fr. Nothing, good faith, sir.
Col.. Nothing? and you bleed?
Col.'s Fr. Bleed! where? pish, a little scratch by chance, sir.
Col. What need this niceness, when you know so well
That I must know these things, and truly know 'em?
Your daintiness makes me but more impatient;
This strange concealment frets me.
Col.'s Fr. Words did pass
Which I was bound to answer, as my opinion
And love instructed me;
And should I take in general fame into 'em,
I think I should commit no error in't.
Col. What words, sir, and of whom?
Col.'s Fr. This gentleman
Paralleled Captain Ager's worth with yours.
Col. With mine?
Col.'s Fr. It was a thing I could not listen to
With any patience.
Cap. Ager. What should ail you, sir?
There was little wrong done to your friend i' that.
Col. How? little wrong to me?
Cap. Ager. I said so, friend,
And I suppose that you'll esteem it so.
Col. Comparisons!
Cap. Ager. Why, sir, 'twixt friend and friend
There is so even and level a degree,
I will admit of no superlative.
Col. Not in terms of manhood?
Rus. [Coming forward.] Nay, gentlemen—
Col. Good sir, give me leave—in terms of manhood,
What can you dispute more questionable?
You're a captain, sir; I give you all your due.
Cap. Ager. And you are a colonel, a title
Which may include within it many captains:
Yet, sir, but throwing by those titular shadows,
Which add no substance to the men themselves,
And take them uncompounded, man and man,
They may be so with fair equality.
Col. You're a boy, sir!
Cap. Ager. And you have a beard, sir:
Virginity and marriage are both worthy;
And the positive purity there are some
Have made the nobler.
Col. How now?
Rus. Nay, good sir—
Cap. Ager. I shrink not; he that goes the foremost may
Be overtaken.
Col. Death, how am I weighed!
Cap. Ager. In an even balance, sir; a beard put in
Gives but a small advantage: man and man,
And lift the scales.
Col. Patience shall be my curse,
If it ride me further! [They draw their swords.
Rus. How now, gallants?
Believe me then, I must give aim no longer:
Can words beget swords, and bring 'em forth, ha?
Come, they're abortive propagations;
Hide 'em, for shame! I had thought soldiers
Had been musical, would not strike out of time,
But to the consort of drum, trumps, and fife:
Tis madman-like to dance without music,
And most unpleasing shows to the beholders,
A Lydian ditty to a Doric note.
Friends embrace with steel hands! fie, it meets too hard!
I must have those encounters here debarred.
Col. Shall I lose here what I have safe brought home
Through many dangers?
Cap. Ager. What's that, sir?
Col. My fame,
Life of the life, my reputation.
Death! I am squared and measured out;
My heights, depths, breadth, all my dimensions taken!
Sure I have yet beyond your astrolabe
A spirit unbounded.
Cap. Ager. Sir, you might weigh—
Rus. Tush!
All this is weighing fire, vain and fruitless:
The further it runs into argument,
The further plunged; beseech you, no more on't.
I have a little claim, sir, in your blood,
As near as the brother to your mother,
If that may serve for power to move your quiet:
The rest I shall make up with courtesy
And an uncle's love.
Cap. Ager I have done, sir, but—
Rus. But? I'll have no more shooting at these butts.
Col. We'll to pricks when he please.
Rus. You rove all still.
Sir, I have no motive proof to disgest
Your raisèd choler back into temperate blood;
But if you'll make mine age a counsellor,—
As all ages have hitherto allowed it,
Wisdom in men grows up as years increase,—
You shall make me blessèd in making peace,
And do your judgment right.
Col. In peace at home
Grey hairs are senators, but to determine
Soldiers and their actions—

Enter FITZALLEN and JANE.

Rus. 'Tis peace here, sir:
And see, here comes a happy interim;
Here enters now a scene of loving arms;
This couple will not quarrel so.
Col.'s Fr. Be advised, sir;
This gentleman, Fitzallen, is your kinsman;
You may o'erthrow his long-laboured fortunes
With one angry minute, 'tis a rich churl,
And this his sole inheritrix; blast not
His hopes with this tempest.
Col. It shall calm me:
All the town's conjurers and their demons could not
Have laid my spirit so.
Fitz. Worthy coz,
I gratulate your fair return to peace!
Your swift fame was at home long before you.
Cel. It meets, I hope, your happy fortunes here,
And I am glad in't. I must salute your joys, coz.
With a soldier's encounter [Kisses JANE.
Fitz. Worthy Captain Ager!
I hope, my kinsman shortly.
Rus. You must come short indeed,
Or the length of my device will be ill-shrunk.— [Aside.
Why, now it shows finely! I'll tell you, sir,—
Sir?—nay, son, I know, i' the end 'twill be so—
Fitz. I hope so, sir.
Rus. Hope? nay, 'tis past all hope, son:
Here has been such a stormy encounter 'twixt
My cousin captain and this brave colonel,
About I know not what—nothing indeed—
Competitions, degrees, and comparatives
Of soldiership; but this smooth passage of love
Has calmed it all—Come, I will have it sound;
Let me see your hearts combined in your hands,
And then I will believe the league is good:
It shall be the grape's, if we drink any blood.
Col. I have no anger, sir.
Cap. Ager. I have had none,
My blood has not yet rose to a quarrel;
Nor have you had cause—
Col. No cause of quarrel?
Death! if my father should tell me so—
Rus. Again?
Fitz. Good sir, for my sake—
Col. Faith, I have done, coz;
You do too hastily believe mine anger:
And yet, to say diminiting valour
In a soldier is no cause of quarrel—
Rus. Nay, then, I'll remove the cause, to kill the effect.
Kinsman, I'll press you to't, if either love
Or consanguinity may move you to't.
I must disarm you; though ye are a soldier,
Pray, grant me your weapon; it shall be safe
[Takes Captain AGER'S sword.
At your regress from my house. Now I know
No words can move this noble soldier's sword
To a man undefenced so: we shall parley,
And safely make all perfect friends again.
Col. To show my will, sir, accept mine to you;
[Gives his sword to RUSSELL.
As good not wear it as not dare to use it.
Col.'s Fr. Nay, then, sir, we will be all exampled;
We'll have no arms here now but lovers' arms.
[Gives his sword to RUSSELL.
Cap.'s Fr. No seconds must begin a quarrel: take mine, sir. [Gives
his sword to RUSSELL.
Rus. Why, la, what a fine sunshine's here! these clouds
My breath has blown into another climate.
I'll be your armourer; they are not pawned.—
These were the fish that I did angle for;
I have caught 'em finely. Now for my trick;
My project's lusty, and will hit the nick.
[Exit with weapon
Col. What, is't a match, beauty? I would now have
Alliance with my worthy Captain Ager,
To knit our loves the faster: here is witness
Enough, if you confirm it now.
Jane. Sir, my voice
Was long since given, since that I gave my hand.
Col. Would you had sealed too!
Jane. That wish comes too late, [Aside.
For I too soon fear my delivery.—
My father's hand sticks yet, sir; you may now
Challenge a lawful interest in his:
He took your hand from your enragèd blood,
And gave it freely to your opposite,
My cousin Ager: methinks you should claim from him,
In the less quality of calmer blood,
To join the hands of two divided friends,
Even these two that would offer willingly
Their own embrace.
Col.'s Fr. Troth, she instructs you well,
Colonel, and you shall do a lover's part
Worth one brave act of valour.
Col. Why, I did
Misdoubt no scruple; is there doubt in it?
Fitz. Faith, sir, delays, which at the least are doubts;
But here's a constant resolution fixed,
Which we wish willingly he would accord to.
Col. Tush, he shall do't, I will not be denied;
He owes me so much in the recompense
Of my reconcilement.—Captain Ager,
You will take our parts against your uncle
In this quarrel?
Cap. Ager. I shall do my best, sir;
Two denials shall not repulse me: I love
Your worthy kinsman, and wish him mine; I know
He doubts it not.
Col. See, he's returned.

Re-enter RUSSELL with Servant.

Rus. Your cue,
Be sure you keep it; 'twill be spoken quickly,
Therefore watch it. [Exit Servant.
Col. Let's set on him all at once.
All. Sir, we have a suit to you.
Rus. What, all at once?
All. All, all, i'faith, sir.
Rus. One speaker may yet deliver: say, say;
I shall not dare to stand out 'gainst so many.
Col. Faith, sir, here's a brabbling matter hangs on demur;
I make the motion for all without a fee;
Pray you, let it be ended this term.
Rus. Ha, ha, ha!—
That is the rascal's cue, and he has missed it. [Aside.
What is't, what is't, sir?
Col. Why, sir, here's a man
And here's a woman—you're scholar good enough—
Put 'em together, and tell me what it spells?
Rus. Ha, ha, ha!—
There's his cue once again:

Re-enter Servant.

O, he's come—humph! [Aside.
Ser. My master laughs; that is his cue to mischief.
[Aside.
Col. What say you, sir?
Ser. Sir—
Rus. Ha! what say you, sir?
Ser. Sir, there's a couple desire speedily to speak with you.
Rus. A couple, sir, of what? hounds or horses?
Ser. Men, sir; gentlemen or yeomen, I know not which,
But the one, sure, they are.
Rus. Hast thou no other description of them?
Ser. They come with commission, they say, sir, to taste of your
earth;
if they like it, they'll turn it into gunpowder.
Rus. O, they are saltpetre-men—before me,
And they bring commission, the king's power indeed!
They must have entrance: but the knaves will be bribed;
There's all the hope we have in officers;
They were too dangerous in a commonwealth,
But that they will be very well corrupted;
Necessary varlets.
Ser. Shall I enter in, sir?
Rus. By all fair means, sir,
And with all speed, sir: give 'em very good words,
To save my ground unravished, unbroke up:
Mine's yet [Exit Servant.
A virgin earth; the worm hath not been seen
To wriggle in her chaste bowels, and I'd be loth
A gunpowder fellow should deflower her now.
Col. Our suit is yet delayed by this means, sir.
Rus. Alas! I cannot help it! these fellows gone
As I hope I shall despatch 'em quickly,
A few articles shall conclude your suit:
Who? Master Fitzallen? the only man
That my adoption aims at.
Col. There's good hope then.

Enter two Sergeants in disguise

1st Serg. Save you, sir.
Rus. You are welcome, sir, for aught I know yet.
2nd Serg. We come to take a view and taste of your ground, sir.
Rus. I'd rather feed you with better meat, gentlemen;
But do your pleasures, pray.
1st Serg. This is our pleasures:—We arrest you, sir,
In the king's name. [They arrest FITZALLEN.
Fitz. Ha! at whose suit?
Rus. How's that?
Col. Our weapons, good sir, furnish us!
Jane. Ay me!
Rus. Stay, stay, gentlemen, let's inquire the cause:
It may be but a trifle; a small debt
Shall need no rescue here.
2nd Serg. Sir, betwixt three creditors, Master Leach, Master Swallow,
and Master Bonesuck, the debts are a thousand pounds.
Rus. A thousand pounds! beshrew me, a good man's substance!
Col. Good sir, our weapons! we'll teach these varlets to walk.
In their own parti-coloured coats, that they
May be distinguishèd from honest men.
1st Serg. Sir, attempt no rescue; he's our prisoner:
You'll make the danger worse by violence.
Col. A plague upon your gunpowder-treason,
Ye quick-damned varlets! is this your saltpetre-proving,
Your tasting earth? would you might ne'er feed better,
Nor none of your catchpoll tribe!—Our weapons, good sir!
We'll yet deliver him.
Rus. Pardon me, sir;
I dare not suffer rescue here,
At least not by so great an accessary
As to furnish you: had you had your weapons—
But to see the ill fate on't!—My fine trick, i'faith!
Let beggars beware to love rich men's daughters:
I'll teach 'em the new morrice; I learnt it myself
Of another careful father.
Fitz. May I not be bailed?
2nd Serg. Yes, but not with swords.
Col. Slaves, here are sufficient men!
1st Serg. Ay, i' the field,
But not in the city.—Sir, if this gentleman
Will be one, we'll easily admit the second.
Rus. Who, I? sir, pray, pardon me: I am wronged,
Very much wronged in this; I must needs speak it.—
Sir, you have not dealt like an honest lover
With me nor my child: here you boast to me
Of a great revenue, a large substance,
Wherein you would endow and state my daughter:
Had I missed this, my opinion yet
Thought you a frugal man, to understand
The sure wards against all necessities;
Boldly to defend your wife and family,
To walk unmuffled, dreadless of these flesh-hooks,
Even in the daring'st streets through all the city;
But now I find you a loose prodigal,
A large unthrift: a whole thousand pound!
Come from him, girl, his inside is not sound.
Fitz. Sir, I am wronged; these are malicious plots
Of some obscure enemies that I have;
These debts are none of mine.
Rus. Ay, all say so:
Perhaps you stand engaged for other men;
If so you do, you must then call't your own:
The like arrearage do I run into
Should I bail you; but I have vowed against it,
And I will keep my vows; that is religious.
Fitz. All this is nothing so, sir.
Rus. Nothing so?
By my faith, 'tis, sir; my vows are firm.
Fitz. I neither
Owe these debts, nor am I engaged for others.
Rus. The easier is your liberty regained:
These appear proofs to me.
Col. Liberty, sir?
I hope you will not see him go to prison.
Rus. I do not mean to bear him company
So far, but I will see him out of my doors:
O, sir, let him go to prison! 'tis a school
To tame wild bloods, he'll be much better for't.
Col. Better for lying in prison?
Rus. In prison; believe it,
Many an honest man lies in prison, else all
The keepers are knaves; they told me so themselves.
Col. Sir, I do now suspect you have betrayed him
And us, to cause us to be weaponless:
If it be so, you're a blood-sucking churl,
One that was born in a great frost, when charity
Could not stir a finger; and you shall die
In heat of a burning fever i' the dog-days,
To begin your hell to you: I've said your grace for you;
Now get you to supper as soon as you can;
Pluto, the master of the house, is set already.
Cap. Ager. Sir, you do wrong mine uncle.
Col. Pox on your uncle
And all his kin! if my kinsman mingle
No blood with him.
Cap. Ager. You are a foul-mouthed fellow!
Col. Foul-mouthed I will be—thou'rt the son of a whore!
Cap. Ager. Ha! whore? plagues and furies! I'll thrust that back,
Or pluck thy heart out after!—son of a whore?
Col. On thy life I'll prove it.
Cap. Ager. Death, I am naked!—
Uncle, I'll give you my left hand for my sword
To arm my right with—O, this fire will flame me
Into present ashes!
Col. Sir, give us weapons;
We ask our own; you will not rob us of them?
Rus. No, sir, but still restrain your furies here:
At my door I'll give you them, nor at this time
My nephew's; a time will better suit you:
And I must tell you, sir, you have spoke swords,
And 'gainst the law of arms, poisoned the blades,
And with them wounded the reputation
Of an unblemished woman: would you were out of my doors!
Col. Pox on your doors, and let it run all your house o'er!
Give me my sword!
Cap. Ager. We shall meet, colonel?
Col. Yes, better provided: to spur thee more,
I do repeat my words—son of a whore!
[Exit with his Friend.
Cap.'s Fr. Come, sir; 'tis no worse than it was; you can
Do nothing now. [Exit with Captain AGER.
Rus. No, I'll bar him now.—Away with that beggar!
[Exit.
Jane. Good sir,
Let this persuade you for two minutes' stay:
At this price, I know, you can wait all day.
[Giving money.
1st Serg. You know the remora that stays our ship always.
Jane. Your ship sinks many when this hold let's go.—
O my Fitzallen! what is to be done?
Fitz. To be still thine is all my part to be,
Whether in freedom or captivity.
Jane. But art thou so engaged as this pretends?
Fitz. By Heaven, sweet Jane, 'tis all a hellish plot
Your cruel-smiling father all this while
Has candied o'er a bitter pill for me;
Thinking by my remove to plant some other,
And then let go his fangs.
Jane. Plant some other?
Thou hast too firmly stamped me for thine own,
Ever to be rased out: I am not current
In any other's hand; I fear too soon
I shall discover it.
Fitz. Let come the worst;
Bind but this knot with an unloosèd line,
I will be still thine own.
Jane. And I'll be thine.
1st Serg. My watch has gone two minutes, master.
Fitz. It shall not be renewed; I go, sir—Farewell!
Jane. Farewell! we both are prisoned, though not together;
But here's the difference in our luckless chance,
I fear mine own, wish thy deliverance.
Fitz. Our hearts shall hourly visit: I'll send to thee;
Then 'tis no prison where the mind is free.
[Exit with Sergeants.

Re-enter RUSSELL.

Rus. So, let him go!—Now, wench, I bring thee joys,
A fair sunshine after this angry storm.
It was my policy to remove this beggar:
What? shall rich men wed their only daughters
To two fair suits of clothes, and perhaps yet
The poor tailor is unpaid? no, no, my girl,
I have a lad of thousands coming in:
Suppose he have more wealth than wit to guide it,
Why, there's thy gains; thou keep'st the keys of all,
Disposest all; and for generation,
Man does most seldom stamp 'em from the brain;
Wise men begets fools, and fools are the fathers
To many wise children; hysteron proteron,
A great scholar may beget an idiot,
And from the plough-tail may come a great scholar;
Nay, they are frequent propagations.
Jane. I am not well, sir.
Rus. Ha! not well, my girl?
Thou shalt have a physician then,
The best that gold can fetch upon his footcloth,
Thou know'st my tender pity to thee ever;
Want nothing that thy wishes can instruct thee
To call for,—'fore me, and thou look'st half-ill indeed!
But I'll bring one within a day to thee
Shall rouse thee up, for he's come up already;
One Master Chough, a Cornish gentleman;
Has as much land of his own fee-simple
As a crow can fly over in half a day:
And now I think on't, at the Crow at Aldgate
His lodging is:—he shall so stir thee up!—
Come, come, be cheered! think of thy preferment:
Honour and attendance, these will bring thee health;
And the way to 'em is to climb by wealth. [Exeunt.

ACT THE SECOND.

SCENE I.

A Room in Lady AGER'S House.

Enter Captain AGER.

CAP. AGER. The son of a whore!
There is not such another murdering-piece
In all the stock of calumny; it kills
At one report two reputations,
A mother's and a son's. If it were possible
That souls could fight after the bodies fell,
This was a quarrel for 'em; he should be one, indeed,
That never heard of Heaven's joys or hell's torments,
To fight this out: I am too full of conscience,
Knowledge, and patience, to give justice to't;
So careful of my eternity, which consists
Of upright actions, that unless I knew
It were a truth I stood for, any coward
Might make my breast his foot-pace: and who lives
That can assure the truth of his conception,
More than a mother's carriage makes it hopeful?
And is't not miserable valour then,
That man should hazard all upon things doubtful?
O, there's the cruelty of my foe's advantage!
Could but my soul resolve my cause were just,
Earth's mountain nor sea's surge should hide him from me!
E'en to hell's threshold would I follow him,
And see the slanderer in before I left him!
But as it is, it fears me; and I never
Appeared too conscionably just till now.
My good opinion of her life and virtues
Bids me go on, and fain would I be ruled by't;
But when my judgement tells me she's but woman,
Whose frailty let in death to all mankind,
My valour shrinks at that. Certain, she's good;
There only wants but my assurance in't,
And all things then were perfect: how I thirst for't!
Here comes the only she that could resolve—
But 'tis too vile a question to demand indeed.

Enter Lady AGER.

Lady Ager. Son, I've a suit to you.
Cap. Ager. That may do well.— [Aside.
To me, good madam? you're most sure to speed in't,
Be't i' my power to grant it.
Lady Ager. 'Tis my love
Makes the request, that you would never part
From England more.
Cap. Ager. With all my heart 'tis granted!—
I'm sure I'm i' the way never to part from't. [Aside.
Lady Ager. Where left you your dear friend the colonel?
Cap. Ager. O, the dear colonel,—I should meet him soon.
Lady Ager. O, fail him not then! he's a gentleman
The fame and reputation of your time
Is much engaged to.

Cap. Ager. Yes, an you knew all, mother.
Lady Ager. I thought I'd known so much of his fair goodness,
More could not have been looked for.
Cap. Ager. O, yes, yes, madam,
And this his last exceeded all the rest.
Lady Ager. For gratitude's sake, let me know this, I prithee!
Cap. Ager. Then thus; and I desire your censure freely,
Whether it appeared not a strange noble kindness in him.
Lady Ager. Trust me, I long to hear't.
Cap. Ager. You know he's hasty,—
That by the way.
Lady Ager. So are the best conditions;
Your father was the like.
Cap. Ager. I begin now
To doubt me more: why am not I so too then
Blood follows blood through forty generations,
And I've a slow-paced wrath—a shrewd dilemma
[Aside.
Lady Ager. Well, as you were saying, sir—
Cap. Ager. Marry, thus, good madam:
There was in company a foul-mouthed villain—
Stay, stay,
Who should I liken him to that you have seen?
He comes so near one that I would not match him with;
Faith, just a' the colonel's pitch, he's ne'er the worse man;
Usurers have been compared to magistrates,
Extortioners to lawyers, and the like;
But they all prove ne'er the worse men for that.
Lady Ager. That's bad enough; they need not.
Cap. Ager. This rude fellow,
A shame to all humanity or manners,
Breathes from the rottenness of his gall and malice
The foulest stain that ever man's fame blemished;
Part of which fell upon your honour, madam,
Which heightened my affliction.
Lady Ager. Mine? my honour, sir?
Cap. Ager. The colonel, soon enraged, as he's all touchwood,
Takes fire before me, makes the quarrel his,
Appoints the field; my wrath could not be heard,
His was so high-pitched, so gloriously mounted.
Now, what's the friendly fear that fights within me,
Should his brave noble fury undertake
A cause that were unjust in our defence,
And so to lose him everlastingly
In that dark depth where all bad quarrels sink
Never to rise again, what pity 'twere
First to die here, and never to die there!
Lady Ager. Why, what's the quarrel—speak, sir—that should
raise
Such fearful doubt, my honour bearing part on't?—
The words, whate'er they were.
Cap. Ager. Son of a whore!
Lady Ager. Thou liest [Strikes him.
And were my love ten thousand times more to thee,
Which is as much now as e'er mother's was,
So thou should'st feel my anger. Dost thou call
That quarrel doubtful? where are all my merits?
Not one stand up to tell this man his error?
Thou might'st as well bring the sun's truth in question
As thy birth or my honour!
Cap. Ager. Now blessings crown you for't!
It is the joyfull'st blow that e'er flesh felt.
Lady Ager. Nay, stay, stay, sir; thou art not left so soon:
This is no question to be slighted off,
And at your pleasure closed up fair again,
As though you'd never touched it: no, honour doubted
Is honour deeply wounded; and it rages
More than a common smart, being of thy making;
For thee to fear my truth, it kills my comfort:
Where should fame seek for her reward, when he
That is her own by the great tie of blood
Is farthest off in bounty? O poor goodness!
That only pay'st thyself with thy own works,
For nothing else look towards thee. Tell me, pray,
Which of my loving cares dost thou requite
With this vile thought, which of my prayers or wishes?
Many thou ow'st me for: this seven year hast thou known me
A widow, only married to my vow;
That's no small witness of my faith and love
To him that in life was thy honoured father;
And live I now to know that good mistrusted?
Cap. Ager. No; 't shall appear that my belief is cheerful,
For never was a mother's reputation
Noblier defended: 'tis my joy and pride
I have a firm faith to bestow upon it.
Lady Ager. What's that you said, sir?
Cap. Ager. 'Twere too bold and soon yet
To crave forgiveness of you: I'll earn it first:
Dead or alive I know I shall enjoy it.
Lady Ager. What's all this, sir?
Cap. Ager. My joy's beyond expression!
I do but think how wretched I had been
Were this another's quarrel, and not mine.
Lady Ager. Why, is it yours?
Cap. Ager. Mine? think me not so miserable
Not to be mine; then were I worse than abject,
More to be loathed than vileness or sin's dunghill:
Nor did I fear your goodness, faithful madam,
But come with greedy joy to be confirmed in't,
To give the nobler onset. Then shines valour,
And admiration from her fixed sphere draws,
When it comes burnished with a righteous cause;
Without which I'm ten fathoms under coward,
That now am ten degress above a man,
Which is but one of virtue's easiest wonders.
Lady Ager. But, pray, stay; all this while I understand you
The colonel was the man.
Cap. Ager. Yes, he's the man,
The man of injury, reproach, and slander,
Which I must turn into his soul again.
Lady Ager. The colonel do't? that's strange!
Cap. Ager. The villain did it;
That's not so strange:—your blessing and your leave.
Lady Ager. Come, come, you shall not go!
Cap. Ager. Not go! Were Death
Sent now to summons me to my eternity,
I'd put him off an hour; why, the whole world
Has not chains strong enough to bind me from't:
The strongest is my reverence to you,
Which if you force upon me in this case,
I must be forced to break it.
Lady Ager. Stay, I say!
Cap. Ager. In anything command me but in this, madam.
Lady Ager. 'Las, I shall lose him! [Aside.]—You will hear me
first?
Cap. Ager. At my return I will.
Lady Ager. You'll never hear me more, then.
Cap. Ager. How?
Lady Ager. Come back, I say!
You may well think there's cause I call so often.
Cap. Ager. Ha, cause! what cause?
Lady Ager. So much, you must not go.
Cap. Ager. How?
Lady Ager. You must not go.
Cap. Ager. Must not! why?
Lady Ager. I know a reason for't,
Which I could wish you'd yield to, and not know;
If not, it must come forth: faith, do not know,
And yet obey my will.
Cap. Ager. Why, I desire
To know no other than the cause I have,
Nor should you wish it, if you take your injury,
For one more great I know the world includes not.
Lady Ager. Yes, one that makes this nothing: yet be ruled,
And if you understand not, seek no further.
Cap. Ager. I must; for this is nothing.
Lady Ager. Then take all;
And if amongst it you receive that secret
That will offend you, though you condemn me,
Yet blame yourself a little; for, perhaps,
I would have made my reputation sound
Upon another's hazard with less pity;
But upon yours I dare not.
Cap. Ager. How?
Lady Ager. I dare not:
'Twas your own seeking this.
Cap. Ager. If you mean evilly,
I cannot understand you; nor for all the riches
This life has, would J.
Lady Ager. Would you never might!
Cap. Ager. Why,'tis your goodness that I joy to fight for.
Lady Ager. In that you neither right your joy nor me.
Cap. Ager. What an ill orator has virtue got here!
Why, shall I dare to think it a thing possible
That you were ever false?
Lady Ager. O, fearfully!
As much as you come to.
Cap. Ager. O silence, cover me!
I've felt a deadlier wound than man can give me.
False!
Lady Ager. I was betrayed to a most sinful hour
By a corrupted soul I put in trust once,
A kinswoman.
Cap. Ager. Where is she? let me pay her!
Lady Ager. O, dead long since!
Cap. Ager. Nay, then, sh'as all her wages.
False! do not say't, for honour's goodness, do not
You never could be so. He I called father
Deserved you at your best, when youth and merit
Could boast at highest in you; y'had no grace
Or virtue that he matched not, no delight
That you invented but he sent it crowned
To your full-wishing soul.
Lady Ager. That heaps my guiltiness.
Cap. Ager. O, were you so unhappy to be false
Both to yourself and me? but to me chiefly.
What a day's hope is here lost! and with it
The joys of a just cause! Had you but thought
On such a noble quarrel, you'd ha' died
Ere you'd ha' yielded; for the sin's hate first,
Next for the shame of this hour's cowardice.
Curst be the heat that lost me such a cause,
A work that I was made for! Quench, my spirit,
And out with honour's flaming lights within thee!
Be dark and dead to all respects of manhood!
I never shall have use of valour more.
Put off your vow for shame! why should you hoard up
Such justice for a barren widowhood,
That was so injurious to the faith of wedlock?
[Exit Lady AGER.
I should be dead, for all my life's work's ended;
I dare not fight a stroke now, nor engage
The noble resolution of my friends:

Enter two Friends of Captain AGER.

That were more vile.—They're here: kill me, my shame!
[Aside.
I am not for the fellowship of honour.
1st Fr. Captain! fie, come, sir! we've been seeking for you
Very late to-day; this was not wont to be:
Your enemy's i' the field.
Cap. Ager. Truth enters cheerfully.
2nd Fr. Good faith, sir, you've a royal quarrel on't.
Cap. Ager. Yes, in some other country, Spain or Italy,
It would be held so.
1st Fr. How? and is't not here so?
Cap. Ager. 'Tis not so contumeliously received
In these parts, an you mark it.
1st Fr. Not in these?
Why, prithee, what is more, or can be?
Cap. Ager. Yes;
That ordinary commotioner, the lie,
Is father of most quarrels in this climate,
And held here capital, an you go to that.
2nd Fr. But, sir, I hope you will not go to that,
Or change your own for it: son of a whore!
Why, there's the lie down to posterity,
The lie to birth, the lie to honesty.
Why would you cozen yourself so, and beguile
So brave a cause, manhood's best masterpiece?
Do you e'er hope for one so brave again?
Cap. Ager. Consider then the man, the colonel,
Exactly worthy, absolutely noble,
However spleen and rage abuses him;
And 'tis not well or manly to pursue
A man's infirmity.
1st Fr. O miracle!
So hopeful, valiant, and complete a captain
Possessed with a tame devil! Come out! thou spoilest
The most improved young soldier of seven kingdoms;
Made captain at nineteen; which was deserved
The year before, but honour comes behind still:
Come out, I say! This was not wont to be;
That spirit ne'er stood in need of provocation,
Nor shall it now: away, sir!
Cap. Ager. Urge me not.
1st Fr. By manhood's reverend honour, but we must!
Cap. Ager. I will not fight a stroke.
1st Fr. O blasphemy
To sacred valour!
Cap. Ager. Lead me where you list.
1st Fr. Pardon this traitorous slumber, clogged with evils:
Give captains rather wives than such tame devils!
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A Room in RUSSELL'S House.
Enter Physician and JANE.

Phy. Nay, mistress, you must not be covered to me;
The patient must ope to the physician
All her dearest sorrows: art is blinded else,
And cannot show her mystical effects.
Jane. Can art be so dim-sighted, learnèd sir?
I did not think her so incapacious.
You train me, as I guess, like a conjuror,
One of our fine oraculous wizards,
Who, from the help of his examinant,
By the near guess of his suspicion,
Points out the thief by the marks he tells him.
Have you no skill in physiognomy?
What colour, says your coat, is my disease?
I am unmarried, and it cannot be yellow;
If it be maiden-green, you cannot miss it.
Phy. I cannot see that vacuum in your blood:
But, gentlewoman, if you love yourself,
Love my advice; be free and plain with me:
Where lies your grief?
Jane. Where lies my grief indeed?
I cannot tell the truth, where my grief lies,
But my joy is imprisoned.
Phy. This is mystical! Jane. Lord, what plain questions you
make problems of!
Your art is such a regular highway,
That put you out of it, and you are lost:
My heart's imprisoned in my body, sir;
There is all my joy; and my sorrow too
Lies very near it.
Phy. They are bad adjuncts;
Your joy and grief, lying so near together,
Can propagate no happy issue: remove
The one, and let it be the worst—your grief—
If you'll propose the best unto your joy.
Jane. Why, now comes your skill: what physic for it?
Phy. Now I have found you out; you are in love.
Jane. I think I am: what's your appliance now?
Can all your Paracelsian mixtures cure it?
'T must be a surgeon of the civil law,
I fear, that must cure me.
Phy. Gentlewoman,
If you knew well my heart, you would not be
So circular; the very common name
Of physician might reprove your niceness;
We are as secret as your confessors,
And as firm obliged; 'tis a fine like death
For us to blab.
Jane. I will trust you; yet, sir,
I'd rather do it by attorney to you;
I else have blushes that will stop my tongue:
Have you no friend so friendly as yourself,
Of mine own sex, to whom I might impart
My sorrows to you at the second hand?
Phy. Why, la, there I hit you! and be confirmed
I'll give you such a bosom-counsellor,
That your own tongue shall be sooner false to you.
Make yourself unready, and be naked to her;
I'll fetch her presently. [Exit.
Jane. I must reveal;
My shame will else take tongue, and speak before me;
'Tis a necessity impulsive drives me.
O my hard fate, but my more hard father,
That father of my fate!—a father, said I?
What a strange paradox I run into!
I must accuse two fathers of my fate
And fault, a reciprocal generation:
The father of my fault would have repaired
His faulty issue, but my fate's father hinders it:
Then fate and fault, wherever I begin,
I must blame both, and yet 'twas love did sin.

Re-enter Physician with ANNE.

Phy. Look you, mistress, here's your closet; put in
What you please, you ever keep the key of it.
Jane. Let me speak private, sir.
Phy. With all my heart;
I will be more than mine ears' length from you.
[Retires.
Jane. You hold some endeared place with this gentleman?
Anne. He is my brother, forsooth, I his creature;
He does command me any lawful office,
Either in act or counsel.
Jane. I must not doubt you;
Your brother has protested secrecy,
And strengthened me in you: I must lay ope
A guilty sorrow to you; I'm with child.
'Tis no black swan I show you; these spots stick
Upon the face of many go for maids:
I that had face enough to do the deed,
Cannot want tongue to speak it; but 'tis to you,
Whom I accept my helper.
Annc. Mistress, 'tis locked
Within a castle that's invincible:
It is too late to wish it were undone.
Jane. I've scarce a wish within myself so strong,
For, understand me, 'tis not all so ill
As you may yet conceit it: this deed was done
When Heaven had witness to the jugal knot;
Only the barren ceremony wants,
Which by an adverse father is abridged.
Anne. Would my pity could help you!
Jane. Your counsel may.
My father yet shoots widest from my sorrow,
And, with a care indulgent, seeing me changed
From what I was, sends for your good brother
To find my grief, and practise remedy:
You know it, give it him; but if a fourth
Be added to this counsel, I will say
Ye're worse than you can call me at the worst,
At this advantage of my reputation.
Anne. I will revive a reputation
That women long has lost; I will keep counsel:
I'll only now oblige my teeth to you,
And they shall bite the blabber, if it offer
To breathe on an offending syllable.
Jane. I trust you; go, whisper. Here comes my father.

Enter RUSSELL, CHOUGH, and TRIMTRAM.

Rus. Sir, you are welcome, more, and most welcome,
All the degrees of welcome; thrice welcome, sir.
Chough. Is this your daughter, sir?
Rus. Mine only joy, sir.
Chough. I'll show her the Cornish hug, sir. [Embraces her.] I
have
kissed you now, sweetheart, and I never do any kindness to my friends but
I use
to hit 'em in the teeth with it presently.
Trim. My name is Trimtram, forsooth; look, what my master does, I use
to do the like.
[Attempts to kiss ANNE.
Anne. You are deceived, sir; I am not this gentle-woman's servant, to
make your courtesy equal.
Chough. You do not know me, mistress?
Jane. No, indeed.—I doubt I shall learn too soon.
[Aside.
Chough. My name is Chough, a Cornish gentleman; my man's mine own
countryman too, i'faith: I warrant you took us for some of the small
islanders.
Jane. I did indeed, between the Scotch and Irish.
Chough. Red-shanks? I thought so, by my truth: no, truly,
We are right Cornish diamonds.
Trim. Yes, we cut
Out quarrels and break glasses where we go.
Phy. [Conversing apart with ANNE.] If it be hidden from her father
,
yet
His ignorance understands well his knowledge,
For this I guess to be some rich coxcomb
He'd put upon his daughter.
Anne. That's plainly so.
Phy. Then only she's beholding to our help
For the close delivery of her burden,
Else all's overthrown.
Anne. And, pray, be faithful in that, sir.
Phy. Tush, we physicians are the truest
Alchemists, that from the ore and dross of sin
Can new distil a maidenhead again.
Rus. How do you like her, sir?
Chough. Troth, I do like her, sir, in the way of comparison, to
anything that a man would desire; I am as high as the Mount in love with her
already, and that's as far as I can go by land; but I hope to go farther by
water with her one day.
Rus. I tell you, sir, she has lost some colour
By wrestling with a peevish sickness now of late.
Chough. Wrestle? nay, an she love wrestling, I'll teach her a trick
to
overthrow any peevish sickness in London, whate'er it be.
Rus. Well, she had a rich beauty, though I say't;
Nor is it lost; a little thing repairs it.
Chough. She shall command the best thing that I have.
In Middlesex, i'faith.
Rus. Well, sir, talk with her;
Give her a relish of your good liking to her;
You shall have time and free
Access to finish what you now begin.
Jane. What means my father? my love's unjust restraint,
My shame, were it published, both together
Could not afflict me like this odious fool:
Now I see why he hated my Fitzallen. [Aside.
Chough. Sweet lady, your father says you are a wrestler: if you love
that
sport, I love you the better: i'faith, I love it as well as I love my meat
after
supper; 'tis indeed meat, drink, and cloth to me.
Jane. Methinks it should tear your clothes, sir.
Chough. Not a rag, i'faith.—Trimtram, hold my cloak.
[Gives his
cloak to TRIMTRAM.]—I'll wrestle a fall with you now; I'll show you a
trick that you never saw in your life.
Jane. O, good sir, forbear! I am no wrestler.
Phy. Good sir, take heed, you'll hurt the gentlewoman.
Chough. I will not catch beneath the waist, believe it;
I know fair play.
Jane. 'Tis no woman's exercise in London, sir.
Chough. I'll ne'er believe that: the hug and the lock between man and
woman, with a fair fall, is as sweet an exercise for the body as you'll desire
in a summer's evening.
Phy. Sir, the gentlewoman is not well.
Chough. It may be you are a physician, sir?
Phy. 'Tis so, sir.
Chough. I say, then, and I'll stand to't, three ounces
of wrestling with two hips, a yard of a green gown put together in the inturn,
is as good a medicine for the green sickness as ever breathed.
Trim. Come, sir, take your cloak again; I see here will be ne'er a
match. [Returns the cloak.
Jane. A match?
I had rather be matched from a musket's mouth,
And shot unto my death. [Aside.
Chough. I'll wrestle with any man for a good supper.
Trim. Ay, marry, sir, I'll take your part there, catch that catch
may.
Phy. [To RUSSELL.] Sir, she is willing to't: there at my house
She shall be private, and near to my attendance:
I know you'll not mistrust my faithful care;
I shall return her soon and perfectly.
Rus. Take your charge, sir.—Go with this gentleman, Jane;
But, prithee, look well this way ere thou go'st;
'Tis a rich simplicity of great estate,
A thing that will be ruled, and thou shalt rule;
Consider of your sex's general aim,
That domination is a woman's Heaven.
Jane. I'll think on't, sir.
Rus. My daughter is retiring, sir.
Chough. I will part at Dartmouth with her, sir.
[Kisses her.]—O that thou didst but love wrestling! I would give any
man three foils on that condition!
Trim. There's three sorts of men that would thank you for 'em, either
cutlers, fencers, or players.
Rus. Sir, as I began I end,—wondrous welcome!
[Exeunt all except CHOUGH and TRIMTRAM.
Trim. What, will you go to school to-day? you are entered, you know,
and your quarterage runs on.
Chough. What, to the roaring school? pox on't, 'tis such a damnable
noise, I shall never attain it neither. I do wonder they have never a
wrestling
school; that were worth twenty of your fencing or dancing schools.
Trim. Well, you must learn to roar here in London; you'll
never proceed
in the reputation of gallantry else.
Chough. How long has roaring been an exercise, thinkest
thou, Trimtram?
Trim. Ever since guns came up; the first was your roaring Meg.
Chough. Meg? then 'twas a woman was the first roarer?
Trim. Ay, a fire of her touch-hole, that cost many a
proper man's life
since that time; and then the lions, they learnt it from the guns, living so
near 'em; then it was heard to the Bankside, and the bears they began to roar;
then the boys got it, and so ever since there have been a company of roaring
boys.
Chough. And how long will it last, thinkest thou?
Trim. As long as the water runs under London Bridge, or watermen ply
at
Westminster stairs.
Chough. Well, I will begin to roar too, since it is in fashion. O,
Corineus, this was not in thy time! I should have heard on't by the tradition o
f
mine ancestors—for I'm sure there were Choughs in thy days—if it had
been so: when Hercules and thou wert on
the Olympic Mount together, then was wrestling in request.
Trim. Ay, and that Mount is now the Mount in Cornwall: Corineus
brought
it thither under one of his arms, they say.
Chough. O Corineus, my predecessor, that I had but lived in
those days
to see thee wrestle! on that condition I had died seven year ago.
Trim. Nay, it should have been a dozen at least, i'faith, on that
condition. [Exeunt.

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

A Field.

Enter Captain AGER and two Friends.

CAP. AGER. Well, your wills now?
1st Fr. of Cap. Our wills? our loves, our duties
To honoured fortitude: what wills have we
But our desires to nobleness and merit,
Valour's advancement, and the sacred rectitude
Due to a valorous cause?
Cap Ager. O, that's not mine!
2nd Fr. of Cap. War has his court of justice, that's the field,
Where all cases of manhood are determined,
And your case is no mean one.
Cap. Ager. True; then 'twere virtuous;
But mine is in extremes, foul and unjust.
Well, now you've got me hither, you're as far
To seek in your desire as at first minute;
For, by the strength and honour of a vow,
I will not lift a finger in this quarrel.
1st Fr. of Cap. How? not in this? be not so rash a sinner:
Why, sir, do you ever hope to fight again then?
Take heed on't; you must never look for that:
Why, the universal stock of the world's injury
Will be too poor to find a quarrel for you.
Give up your right and title to desert, sir:
If you fail Virtue here, she needs you not
All your time after; let her take this wrong,
And never presume then to serve her more:
Bid farewell to the integrity of arms,
And let that honourable name of soldier
Fall from you like a shivered wreath of laurel
By thunder struck from a desertless forehead,
That wears another's right by usurpation.
Good captain, do not wilfully cast away
At one hour all the fame your life has won:
This is your native seat; here you should seek
Most to preserve it; or if you will dote
So much on life,—poor life, which in respect
Of life in honour is but death and darkness,—
That you will prove neglectful of yourself,
Which is to me too fearful too imagine,
Yet for that virtuous lady's cause, your mother,
Her reputation dear to nobleness
As grace to penitence, whose fair memory
E'en crowns fame in your issue, for that blessedness
Give not this ill place, but in spite of hell,
And all her base fears, be exactly valiant.
Cap. Ager. O, O!
2nd Fr. of Cap. Why, well said, there's fair hope in that;
Another such a one!
Cap. Ager. Came they in thousands,
'Tis all against you.
1st Fr. of Cap. Then, poor friendless merit,
Heaven be good to thee! thy professor leaves thee.

Enter the Colonel and two Friends.

He's come; do but you draw, we'll fight it for you.
Cap. Ager. I know too much to grant that.
1st Fr. of Cap. O dead manhood!
Had ever such a cause so faint a servant?
Shame brand me, if I do not suffer for him!
Col. I've heard, sir, you've been guilty of much boasting
For your brave earliness at such a meeting:
You've lost the glory of that way this morning;
I was the first to-day.
Cap. Ager. So were you ever
In my respect, sir.
1st Fr. of Cap. O most base præludium!
Cap. Ager. I never thought on Victory, our mistress,
With greater reverence than I have your worth,
Nor ever loved her better.
1st Fr. of Cap. 'Slight, I could knock
His brains 'bout his heels, methinks!
2nd Fr. of Cap. Peace, prithee, peace.
Cap. Ager. Success in you has been my absolute joy;
And when I've wished content, I've wished your friendship.
1st Fr. of Cap. Stay, let me but run him through the tongue a little;
There's lawyer's blood in't, you shall see foul gear straight.
2nd Fr. of Cap. Come, you're as mad now as he's cowardous.
Col. I came not hither, sir, for an encomium.
1st Fr. of Cap. No, the more coxcomb he that claws the head
Of your vainglory with't! [Aside.
Col. I came provided
For storms and tempests, and the foulest season
That ever rage let forth, or blew in wildness
From the incensèd prison of man's blood.
Cap. Ager. 'Tis otherwise with me; I come with mildness,
Peace, constant amity, and calm forgiveness,
The weather of a Christian and a friend.
1st Fr. of Cap. Give me a valiant Turk, though not worth tenpence,
rather.
Cap. Ager. Yet, sir, the world will judge the injury mine,
Insufferably mine, mine beyond injury:
Thousands have made a less wrong reach to hell,
Ay, and rejoiced in his most endless vengeance,
A miserable triumph, though a just one!
But when I call to memory our long friendship,
Methinks it cannot be too great a wrong
That then I should not pardon. Why should man,
For a poor hasty syllable or two,
And vented only in forgetful fury,
Chain all the hopes and riches of his soul
To the revenge of that, die lost for ever?
For he that makes his last peace with his Maker
In anger, anger is his peace eternally:
He must expect the same return again
Whose venture is deceitful; must he not, sir?
Col. I see what I must do, fairly put up again;
For here'll be nothing done, I perceive that.
Cap. Ager. What shall be done in such a worthless business
But to be sorry, and to be forgiven;
You, sir, to bring repentance, and I pardon?
Col. I bring repentance, sir?
Cap. Ager. If't be too much
To say repentance, call it what you please, sir;
Choose your own word: I know you're sorry for't,
And that's as good.
Col. I sorry? by fame's honour, I am wronged!
Do you seek for peace, and draw the quarrel larger?
Cap. Ager. Then 'tis I am sorry that I thought you so.
1st Fr. of Cap. A captain! I could gnaw his title off.
Cap. Ager. Nor is it any misbecoming virtue, sir,
In the best manliness to repent a wrong,
Which made me bold with you.
1st Fr. of Cap. I could cuff his head off.
2nd Fr. of Cap. Nay, pish!
1st Fr. of Cap. Pox on him, I could eat his buttock baked, methinks!
Col. So, once again take thou thy peaceful rest, then;
[Sheathing his sword.
But, as I put thee up, I must proclaim
This captain here, both to his friends and mine,
That only came to see fair valour righted,
A base submissive coward; so I leave him.
[Offers to go away.
Cap. Ager. O, Heaven has pitied my excessive patience,
And sent me a cause! now I have a cause;
A coward I was never.—Come you back, sir!
Col. How?
Cap. Ager. You left a coward here.
Col. Yes, sir, with you.
Cap. Ager. 'Tis such base metal, sir, 'twill not be taken;
It must home again with you.
2nd Fr. of Cap. Should this be true now!
1st Fr. of Cap. Impossible! coward do more than bastard?
Col. I prithee mock me not, take heed you do not;
For if I draw once more, I shall grow terrible,
And rage will force me do what will grieve honour.
Cap. Ager. Ha, ha, ha!
Col. He smiles; dare it be he?—What think you, gentlemen?
Your judgments, shall I not be cozened in him?
This cannot be the man: why, he was bookish,
Made an invective lately against fighting,
A thing, in troth, that moved a little with me,
Put up a fouler contumely far
Than thousand cowards came to, and grew thankful.
Cap. Ager. Blessèd remembrance in time of need!
I'd lost my honour else.
2nd Fr. of Cap. Do you note his joy?
Cap. Ager. I never felt a more severe necessity;
Then came thy excellent pity. Not yet ready?
Have you such confidence in my just manhood
That you dare so long trust me, and yet tempt me
Beyond the toleration of man's virtue?
Why, would you be more cruel than your injury?
Do you first take pride to wrong me, and then think me
Not worth your fury? do not use me so;
I shall deceive you then. Sir, either draw,
And that not slightingly, but with the care
Of your best preservation, with that watchfulness
As you'd defend yourself from circular fire,
Your sin's rage, or her lord—this will require it—
Or you'll be too soon lost, for I've an anger
Has gathered mighty strength against you, mighty:
Yet you shall find it honest to the last,
Noble and fair.
Col. I'll venture't once again;
And if't be but as true as it is wondrous,
I shall have that I come for: your leave, gentlemen.
1st Fr. of Cap. If he should do't indeed, and deceive's all now!
Stay, by this hand he offers—fights, i'faith!
[The Colonel and Captain AGER fight.
Fights, by this light he fights, sir!
2nd Fr. of Cap. So methinks, sir.
1st Fr. of Cap. An absolute punto, hey?
2nd Fr. of Cap. 'Twas a passado, sir.
1st Fr. of Cap. Why, let it pass, an 'twas; I'm sure 'twas somewhat.
What's that now?
2nd Fr. of Cap. That's punto.
1st Fr. of Cap. O, go to, then;
I knew 'twas not far off. What a world's this!
Is coward a more stirring meat than bastard, my masters?
Put in more eggs, for shame, when you get children,
And make it true court-custard.—Ho, I honour thee!
'Tis right and fair; and he that breathes against it,
He breathes against the justice of a man,
And man to cut him off 'tis no injustice.
[The Colonel falls.
Thanks, thanks for this most unexpected nobleness!
Cap. Ager. Truth never fails her servant, sir, nor leaves him
With the day's shame upon him.
1st Fr. of Cap. Thou'st redeemed
Thy worth to the same height 'twas first esteemed.
[Exit Captain AGER with his Friends.
1st Fr. of Col. Alas, how is it, sir? give us some hope
Of your stay with us: let your spirit be seen
Above your fortune; the best fortitude
Has been of fate ill-friended: now force your empire,
And reign above your blood, spite of dejection;
Reduce the monarchy of your abler mind,
Let not flesh straiten it.
Col. O, just Heaven has found me,
And turned the stings of my too hasty injuries
Into my own blood! I pursued my ruin,
And urged him past the patience of an angel:
Could man's revenge extend beyond man's life,
This would ha' waked it. If this flame will light me
But till I see my sister, 'tis a kind one;
More I expect not from't. Noble deserver!
Farewell, most valiant and most wronged of men;
Do but forgive me, and I'm victor then.
[Exit, led off by his Friends.

SCENE II.

A Room in the Physician's House.

Enter Physician, JANE, ANNE, and Dutch Nurse with a Child.

Phy. Sweet fro, to your most indulgent care
Take this my heart's joy; I must not tell you
The value of this jewel in my bosom.
Nurse. Dat you may vell, sir; der can niet forstoore you.
Phy. Indeed I cannot tell you; you know, nurse,
These are above the quantity of price:
Where is the glory of the goodliest trees
But in the fruit and branches? the old stock
Must decay; and sprigs, scions such as these,
Must become new stocks, for us to glory
In their fruitful issue; so we are made
Immortal one by other.
Nurse. You spreek a most lieben fader, and ich sall do de best of
tender nurses to dis infant, my pretty frokin.
Phy. I know you will be loving: here, sweet friend;
[Gives money.
Here's earnest of a large sum of love and coin
To quit your tender care.
Jane. I have some reason too
To purchase your dear care unto this infant.
[Gives money.
Nurse. You be de witness of de baptim, dat is, as you spreken, de
godmother, ich vell forstoore it so.
Jane. Yes, I'm the bad mother,—if it be offence.
[Aside.
Anne. I must be a little kind too. [Gives money.
Nurse. Much tanks to you all! dis child is much beloven; and ich sall
see
much care over it.
Phy. Farewell.—Good sister, show her the way forth.—
I shall often visit you, kind nurse.
Nurse. You sall be velcome.
[Exeunt ANNE and Nurse.
Jane. O sir, what a friend have I found in you!
Where my poor power shall stay in the requital,
Yourself must from your fair condition
Make up in mere acceptance of my will.
Phy. O, pray you, urge it not! we are not born
For ourselves only; self-love is a sin;
But in our loving donatives to others
Man's virtue best consists: love all begets;
Without, all are adulterate and counterfeit.
Jane. Your boundless love I cannot satisfy
But with a mental memory of your virtues:
Yet let me not engage your cost withal;
Beseech you then take restitution
Of pains and bounty which you have disbursed
For your poor debtor.
Phy. You will not offer it?
Do not esteem my love so mercenary
To be the hire of coin: sure, I shall think
You do not hold so worthily of me
As I wish to deserve.
Jane. Not recompense?
Then you will beggar me with too much credit:
Is't not sufficient you preserve my name,
Which I had forfeited to shame and scorn,
Cover my vices with a veil of love,
Defend and keep me from a father's rage,
Whose love yet infinite, not knowing this,
Might, knowing, turn a hate as infinite;
Sure he would throw me ever from his blessings,
And cast his curses on me! Yes, further,
Your secrecy keeps me in the state of woman;
For else what husband would choose me his wife,
Knowing the honour of a bride were lost?I cannot number half the good you do me

In the concealed retention of my sin;
Then make me not worse than I was before,
In my ingratitude, good sir.
Phy. Again?
I shall repent my love, if you'll so call't,
To be made such a hackney: give me coin?
I had as lief you gave me poison, lady,
For I have art and antidotes 'gainst that;
I might take that, but this I will refuse.
Jane. Will you then teach me how I may requite you
In some small quantity?
Phy. 'Twas that I looked for.— [Aside.
Yes, I will tell you, lady, a full quittance,
And how you may become my creditress.
Jane. I beseech you, do, sir!
Phy. Indeed I will, lady:
Not in coin, mistress; for silver, though white,
Yet it draws black lines; it shall not rule my palm,
There to mark forth his base corruption:
Pay me again in the same quality
That I to you tendered,—that is, love for love.
Can you love me, lady? you have confessed
My love to you.
Jane. Most amply.
Phy. Why, faith, then,
Pay me back that way.
Jane. How do you mean, sir?
Phy. Tush, our meanings are better understood
Than shifted to the tongue; it brings along
A little blabbing blood into our cheeks,
That shames us when we speak.
Jane. I understand you not.
Phy. Fie, you do; make not yourself ignorant
In what you know; you have ta'en forth the lesson
That I would read to you.
Jane. Sure then I need not
Read it again, sir.
Phy. Yes, it makes perfect.
You know the way unto Achilles' spear;
If that hurt you, I have the cure, you see.
Jane. Come, you're a good man; I do perceive you,
You put a trial to me; I thank you;
You are my just confessor, and, believe me,
I'll have no further penance for this sin.
Convert a year unto a lasting ever,
And call't Apollo's smile: 'twas once, then never.
Phy. Pray you, mistake not; indeed I love you.
Jane. Indeed? what deed?
Phy. The deed that you have done.
Jane. I cannot believe you.
Phy. Believe the deed then!
Jane. Away, you are a blackamoor! you love me?
I hate you for your love! Are you the man
That in your painted outside seemed so white?
O, you're a foul dissembling hypocrite!
You saved me from a thief, that yourself might rob me;
Skinned over a green wound to breed an ulcer:
Is this the practice of your physic-college?
Phy. Have you yet uttered all your niceness forth?
If you have more, vent it; certes, I think
Your first grant was not yielded with less pain;
If 'twere, you have your price, yield it again.
Jane. Pray you, tell me, sir,—I asked it before,—
Is it a practice amongst you physicians?
Phy. Tush, that's a secret; we cast all waters:
Should I reveal, you would mistrust my counsel:
The lawyer and physician here agrees,
To women-clients they give back their fees;
And is not that kindness?
Jane. This for thy love! [Spits at him.
Out, outside of a man: thou cinnamon-tree,
That but thy bark hast nothing good about thee!
The unicorn is hunted for his horn,
The rest is left for carrion: thou false man,
Thou'st fished with silver hooks and golden baits;
But I'll avoid all thy deceiving sleights.
Phy. Do what you list, I will do something too;
Remember yet what I have done for you:
You have a good face now, but 'twill grow rugged;
Ere you grow old, old men will despise you:
Think on your grandame Helen, the fairest queen;
When in a new glass she spied her old face,
She, smiling, wept to think upon the change:
Take your time; you're crazed, you're an apple fallen
From the tree; if you be kept long, you'll rot.
Study your answer well: yet I love you;
If you refuse, I have a hand above you. [Exit.
Jane. Poison thyself, thou foul empoisoner!
Of thine own practique drink the theory!
What a white devil have I met withal!
What shall I do?—what do? is it a question?
Nor shame, nor hate, nor fear, nor lust, nor force,
Now being too bad, shall ever make me worse.

Re-enter ANNE.

What have we here? a second spirit?
Anne. Mistress,
I am sent to you.
Jane. Is your message good?
Anne. As you receive it:
My brother sent me, and you know he loves you.
Jane. I heard say so; but 'twas a false report.
Anne. Pray, pardon me, I must do my message;
Who lives commanded must obey his keeper:
I must persuade you to this act of woman.
Jane. Woman? of strumpet!
Anne. Indeed, of strumpet;
He takes you at advantage of your fall,
Seeing you down before.
Jane. Curse on his feigned smiles!
Anne. He's my brother, mistress; and a curse on you,
If e'er you bless him with that cursèd deed!
Hang him, poison him! he held out a rose,
To draw the yielding sense, which, come to hand,
He shifts, and gives a canker.
Jane. You speak well yet.
Anne. Ay, but, mistress, now I consider it,
Your reputation lies at his mercy,
Your fault dwells in his breast; say he throw't out,
It will be known; how are you then undone!
Think on't, your good name; and they're not to be sold
In every market: a good name is dear,
And indeed more esteemèd than our actions,
By which we should deserve it.
Jane. Ay me, most wretched!
Anne. What? do you shrink at that?
Would you not wear one spot upon your face,
To keep your whole body from a leprosy,
Though it were undiscovered ever? Hang him!
Fear him not: horse leeches suck out his corrupt blood!
Draw you none from him, 'less it be pure and good.
Jane. Do you speak your soul?
Anne. By my soul do I!
Jane. Then yet I have a friend: but thus exhort me,
And I have still a column to support me.
Anne. One fault
Heaven soon forgives, and 'tis on earth forgot;
The moon herself is not without one spot. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Room in Lady AGER'S House.

Enter Lady AGER, meeting a Servant.

Lady Ager. Now, sir, where is he? speak, why comes he not?
I sent you for him.—Bless this fellow's senses!
What has he seen? a soul nine hours entranced,
Hovering 'twixt hell and Heaven, could not wake ghastlier.
Nor yet return an answer?—

Enter a 2nd Servant.

What say you, sir?
Where is he?
2nd Serv. Gone.
Lady Ager. What say'st thou!
2nd Serv. He is gone, madam;
But, as we heard, unwillingly he went
As ever blood enforced.
Lady Ager. Went? whither went he?
2nd Serv. Madam, I fear I ha' said too much already.
Lady Ager. These men are both agreed.—Speak, whither went he?
2nd Serv. Why, to—I would you'd think the rest yourself, madam.
Lady Ager. Meek patience bless me!
2nd Serv. To the field.
1st Serv. To fight, madam.
Lady Ager. To fight?
1st Serv. There came two urging gentlemen,
That called themselves his seconds; both so powerful,
As 'tis reported, they prevailed with him
With little labour.
Lady Ager. O, he's lost, he's gone!
For all my pains, he's gone! two meeting torrents
Are not so merciless as their two rages:
He never comes again. Wretched affection!
Have I belied my faith, injured my goodness,
Slandered my honour for his preservation,
Having but only him, and yet no happier?
'Tis then a judgment plain; truth's angry with me,
In that I would abuse her sacred whiteness
For any worldly temporal respect:
Forgive me then, thou glorious woman's virtue,
Admired where'er thy habitation is,
Especially in us weak ones! O, forgive me,
For 'tis thy vengeance this! To belie truth,
Which is so hardly ours, with such pain purchased,
Fastings and prayers, continence and care,
Misery must needs ensue. Let him not die
In that unchaste belief of his false birth,
And my disgrace! whatever angel guides him,
May this request be with my tears obtained,
Let his soul know my honour is unstained!— [Aside.
Run, seek away! if there be any hope,
Let me not lose him yet. [Exeunt Servants.] When I think on him,
His dearness and his worth, it earns me more:
They that know riches tremble to be poor.
My passion is not every woman's sorrow:
She must be truly honest feels my grief,
And only known to one; if such there be,
They know the sorrow that oppresseth me. [Exit.

ACT THE FOURTH.

SCENE I.

The Roaring-School.

Enter the Colonel's Friend, CHOUGH, TRIMTRAM, Usher, and several
Roarers.

COL'S FR. Truth, sir, I must needs blame you for a truant, having but one
lesson
read to you, and neglect so soon; fie, I must see you once a day at least.
Chough. Would I were whipped, tutor, if it were not 'long of my man
Trimtram here!
Trim.. Who, of me?
Chough. Take't upon thee, Trim; I'll give thee five shillings, as I
am
a gentleman.
Trim. I'll see you whipped first:—well, I will too.—Faith,
sir, I saw he was not perfect, and I was loth he should come before to shame
himself.
Col.'s Fr. How? shame, sir? is it a shame for scholars to learn? Sir,
there are great scholars that are but slenderly read in our profession: sir,
first it must be economical, then ecumenical: shame not to practise in the
house
how to perform in the field: the nail that is driven takes a little hold
at the
first stroke, but more at the second, and more at the third, but when
'tis home
to the head, then 'tis firm.
Chough. Faith, I have been driving it home to the head this two days.
Trim. I helped to hammer it in as well as I could too, sir.
Col.'s Fr. Well, sir, I will hear you rehearse anon: meantime peruse
the exemplary of my bills, and tell me in what language I shall roar a lecture
to you; or I'll read to you the mathematical science of roaring.
Chough. Is it mathematical?
Col.'s Fr. O, sir, does not the wind roar, the sea roar, the welkin
roar?—indeed most things do roar by nature—and is not the knowledge
of
these things mathematical?
Chough. Pray, proceed, sir.
Col.'s Fr. [Reads.] "The names of the languages, the Sclavonian,
Parthamenian, Barmeothian, Tyburnian, Wappinganian, or the modern Londonian:
any
man or woman that is desirous to roar in any of these languages, in a week
they
shall be perfect if they will take pains; so let 'em repair into Holborn
to the
sign of the Cheat-loaf."
Chough. Now your bill speaks of that I was wondering a good while at,
your sign; the loaf looks very like bread, i'faith, but why is it called the
Cheat-loaf?
Col.'s Fr. This house was sometimes a baker's, sir, that served the
court, where the bread is called cheat.
Trim. Ay, ay, 'twas a baker that cheated the court with bread.
Col.'s Fr. Well, sir, choose your languages; and your lectures shall
be
read, between my usher and myself, for your better instruction, provided your
conditions be performed in the premises beforesaid.
Chough. Look you, sir, there's twenty pound in hand, and twenty more I

am to pay when I am allowed a sufficient roarer. [Gives money.
Col.'s Fr. You speak in good earnest, sir?
Chough. Yes, faith do I: Trimtram shall be my witness.
Trim. Yes, indeed, sir, twenty pound is very good earnest.
Ush. Sir, one thing I must tell you belongs to my place: you are the
youngest scholar; and till another comes under you, there is a certain garnish
belongs to the school; for in our practice we grow to a quarrel; then there
must
be wine ready to make all friends, for that's the end of roaring, 'tis
valiant,
but harmless; and this charge is yours.
Chough. With all my heart, i'faith, and I like it the better
because no
blood comes on it: who shall fetch?
1st Roar. I'll be your spaniel, sir.
Col.'s Fr. Bid Vapour bring some tobacco too.
Chough. Do, and here's money for't.
Ush. No, you shall not; let me see the money: so [Takes
the money],
I'll keep it, and discharge him after the combat. [Exit 1st Roarer.] For
your practice' sake, you and your man shall roar him out on't—for indeed
you must pay your debts so, for that's one of the main ends of
roaring—and
when you have left him in a chafe, then I'll qualify the rascal.
Chough. Content.—I'faith, Trim, we'll roar the
rusty rascal out of
his tobacco.
Trim. Ay, an he had the best craccus in London.
Col.'s Fr. Observe, sir, we could now roar in the
Sclavonian language,
but this practice hath been a little sublime, some hair's-breadth or so above
your caput; I take it, for your use and understanding both, it were fitter for
you to taste the modern assault, only the Londonian roar.
Chough. I'faith, sir, that's for my purpose, for I shall use all my
roaring here in London: in Cornwall we are all for wrestling, and I do not
mean
to travel over sea to roar there.
Col.'s Fr. Observe then, sir;—but it were necessary you took fort
h
your tables to note the most difficult points for the better assistance of
your
memory.
Chough. Nay, sir, my man and I keep two tables.
Trim. Ay, sir, and as many trenchers, cats' meat and dogs' meat
enough.
Col.'s Fr. Note, sir.—Dost thou confront my cyclops?
Ush. With a Briarean brousted.
Chough. Cyclops. [Writes.
Trim. Briarean. [Writes.
Col.'s Fr. I know thee and thy lineal pedigree.
Ush. It is collateral, as Brutus and Posthumus.
Trim. Brutus. [Writes.
Chough. Posthumus. [Writes.
Col.'s Fr. False as the face of Hecate! thy sister is a—
Ush. What is my sister, centaur?
Col.'s Fr. I say thy sister is a bronstrops.
Ush. A bronstrops?
Chough. Tutor, tutor, ere you go any further, tell me the English of
that; what is a bronstrops, pray?
Col.'s Fr. A bronstrops is in English a hippocrene.
Chough. A hippocrene; note it, Trim: I love to understand the English
as I go. [Writes.
Trim. What's the English of hippocrene?
Chough. Why, bronstrops.
Ush. Thou dost obtrect my flesh and blood.
Col.'s Fr. Again I denounce, thy sister is a fructifer.
Chough. What's that, tutor?
Col.'s Fr. That is in English a fucus or a minotaur.
Chough. A minotaur. [Writes.
Trim. A fucus. [Writes.
Ush. I say thy mother is a callicut, a panagron, a duplar, and a
sindicus.
Col.'s Fr. Dislocate thy bladud!
Ush. Bladud shall conjure, if his demons once appear.

Re-enter 1st Roarer with wine, followed by VAPOUR with tobacco.

Col.'s Fr. Advance thy respondency.
Chough. Nay, good gentlemen, do not fall out.—A cup of wine
quickly, Trintram!
Ush. See, my steel hath a glister!
Chough. Pray wipe him, and put him up again, good usher.
Ush. Sir, at your request I pull down the flag of defiance.
Col.'s Fr. Give me a bowl of wine, my fury shall be quenched: here,
usher! [Drinks.
Ush. I pledge thee in good friendship. [Drinks.
Chough. I like the conclusion of roaring very well, i'faith.
Trim. It has an excellent conclusion indeed,—if the wine be
good,
always provided.
Col.'s Fr. O, the wine must be always provided, be sure of that.
Ush. Else you spoil the conclusion, and that you know crowns all.
Chough. 'Tis much like wrestling, i'faith, for we shake hands ere we
begin; now that's to avoid the law, for then if he throw him a furlong into
the
ground, he can-not recover himself upon him, because 'twas done in cold
friendship.
Col.'s Fr. I believe you, sir.
Chough. And then we drink afterwards, just in this fashion: wrestling
and roaring are as like as can be, i'faith, even like long sword and half
pike.
Col.'s Fr. Nay, they are reciprocal, if you mark it, for as
there is a
great roaring at wrestling, so there is a kind of wrestling and contention at
roaring.
Chough. True, i'faith, for I have heard 'em roar from the
six windmills
to Islington: those have been great falls then.
Col.'s Fr. Come, now, a brief rehearsal of your other day's lesson,
betwixt your man and you, and then for to-day we break up school.
Chough. Come, Trimtram.—If I be out, tutor, I'll be bold to look
in my tables, because I doubt I am scarce perfect.
Col.'s Fr. Well, well, I will not see small faults.
Chough. The wall!
Trim. The wall of me? to thy kennel, spaniel
Chough. Wilt thou not yield precedency?
Trim. To thee? I know thee and thy brood.
Chough. Knowest thou my brood? I know thy brood too, thou art a rook.
Trim. The nearer akin to the choughs.
Chough. The rooks akin to the choughs?
Col.'s Fr. Very well maintained!
Chough. Dungcoer, thou liest!
Trim. Lie? enucleate the kernel of thy scabbard.
Chough. Now if I durst draw my sword, 'twere valiant, i'faith.
Col.'s Fr. Draw, draw, howsoever!
Chough. Have some wine ready to make us friends, I pray you.
Trim. Chough, I will make thee fly and roar.
Chough. I will roar if thou strikest me.
Col.'s Fr. So, 'tis enough; now conclude in wine: I see you will
prove
an excellent practitioner: wondrous well performed on both sides!
Chough. Here, Trimtram, I drink to thee. [Drinks.
Trim. I'll pledge you in good friendship. [Drinks.

Enter Servant.

Serv. Is there not one Master Chough here?
Ush. This is the gentleman, sir.
Serv. My master, sir, your elected father-in-law, desires speedily to
speak with you.
Chough. Friend, I will follow thee: I would thou hadst come a little
sooner! thou shouldst have seen roaring sport, i'faith.
Serv. Sir, I'll return that you are following.
Chough. Do so. [Exit Servant.]—I'll tell thee, tutor, I am
to
marry shortly; but I will defer it a while till I can roar perfectly, that I ma
y
get the upper hand of my wife on the wedding-day; 't must be done at first or
never.
Col.'s Fr. 'Twill serve you to good use in that, sir.
Chough. How likest thou this, whiffler?
Vap. Very valiantly, i'faith, sir.
Chough. Tush, thou shalt see more by and by.
Vap. I can stay no longer indeed, sir: who pays me for my tobacco?
Chough. How? pay for tobacco? away, ye sooty-mouthed piper! you rusty
piece of Martlemas bacon, away!
Trim. Let me give him a mark for't.
Chough. No, Trimtram, do not strike him; we'll only roar out a curse
upon him.
Trim. Well, do you begin then.
Chough. May thy roll rot, and thy pudding drop in pieces, being
sophisticated with filthy urine!
Trim. May sergeants dwell on either side of thee, to fright away the
twopenny customers!
Chough. And for thy penny ones, let them suck thee dry!
Trim. When thou art dead, mayst thou have no other sheets to be
buried
in but mouldy tobacco-leaves!
Chough. And no strawings to stick thy carcase but the bitter stalks!
Trim. Thy mourners all greasy tapsters!
Chough. With foul tobacco-pipes in their hats, instead of rotten
rosemary; and last of all, may my man and I live to see all this performed,
and
to piss reeking even upon thy grave!
Trim. And last of all for me, let this epitaph be remembered over
thee:
Here coldly now within is laid to rot
A man that yesterday was piping hot:
Some say he died by pudding, some by prick,
Others by roll and ball, some leaf; all stick
Fast in censure, yet think it strange and rare,
He lived by smoke, yet died for want of air:
But then the surgeon said, when he beheld him,
It was the burning of his pipe that killed him.
Chough. So, are you paid now, whiffler?
Vap. All this is but smoke out of a stinking pipe.
Chough. So, so, pay him now, usher.
[VAPOUR is paid by the Usher, and exit.
Col.'s Fr. Do not henceforth neglect your schooling, Master Chough.
Chough. Call me rook, If I do, tutor.
Trim. And me raven, though my name be Trimtram.
Chough. Farewell, tutor.
Trim. Farewell, usher.
[Exeunt CHOUGH and TRIMTRAM.
Col.'s Fr. Thus when the drum's unbraced, and trumpets cease,
Soldiers must get pay for to live in peace. [Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A Chamber in the Colonel's House.

The Colonel discovered lying on a couch, several of his Friends
watching him: as the Surgeon is going out, the Colonel's Sister
enters.

Col.'s Sist. O my most worthy brother, thy hard fate 'twas!—
Come hither, honest surgeon, and deal faithfully
With a distressèd virgin: what hope is there?
Surg. Hope? chilis was 'scaped miraculously, lady.
Col.'s Sist. What's that, sir?
Surg. Cava vena: I care but little for his wound i' the œsophag,
not thus much, trust me; but when they come to diaphragma once, the small
intestines, or the spinal medul, or i' the roots of the emunctories of the
noble
parts, then straight I fear a syncope; the flanks retiring towards the
back, the
urine bloody, the excrements purulent, and the dolour pricking or pungent.
Col.'s Sist. Alas, I'm ne'er the better for this answer!
Surg. Now I must tell you his principal dolour lies i' the region of
the liver, and there's both inflammation and tumefaction feared; marry, I made
him a quadrangular plumation, where I used sanguis draconis, by my faith, with
powders incarnative, which I tempered with oil of hypericon, and other liquors
mundificative.
Col.'s Sist. Pox a' your mundies figatives! I would they were all
fired!
Surg. But I purpose, lady, to make another experiment at next
dressing
with a sarcotic medicament made of iris of Florence; thus, mastic, calaphena,
opoponax, sacrocolla—
Col.'s Sist. Sacro-halter! what comfort is i' this to a poor
gentlewoman? pray tell me in plain terms what you think of him.
Surg. Marry, in plain terms I know not what to say to him:
the wound, I
can assure, you, inclines to paralism, and I find his body cacochymic: being
then in fear of fever and inflammation, I nourish him altogether with viands
refrigerative, and give for potion the juice of savicola dissolved with water
cerefolium: I could do no more, lady, if his best ginglymus were dissevered.
[Exit.
Col.'s Sist. What thankless pains does the tongue often take
To make the whole man most ridiculous!
I come to him for comfort, and he tires me
Worse than my sorrow: what a precious good
May be delivered sweetly in few words!
And what a mount of nothing has he cast forth!
Alas, his strength decays! [Aside].—How cheer you, sir,
My honoured brother?
Col. In soul never better;
I feel an excellent health there, such a stoutness
My invisible enemies fly me: seeing me armed
With penitence and forgiveness, they fall backward,
Whether through admiration, not imagining
There were such armoury in a soldier's soul
As pardon and repentance, or through power
Of ghostly valour. But I have been lord
Of a more happy conquest in nine hours now
Than in nine years before.—O kind lieutenants,
This is the only war we should provide for!
Where he that forgives largest, and sighs strongest,
Is a tried soldier, a true man indeed,
And wins the best field, makes his own heart bleed.
Read the last part of that will, sir.
1st Fr. of Col. [Reads.] "I also require at the hands of my most
beloved sister, whom I make full executrix, the disposure of my body in burial
at Saint Martin's i' the Field; and to cause to be distributed to the poor of
the same parish forty mark, and to the hospital of maimed soldiers a hundred:
lastly, I give and bequeath to my kind, dear, and virtuous sister the full
possession of my present estate in riches, whether it be in lands, leases,
money, goods, plate, jewels, or what kind soever, upon this condition
following
that she forthwith tender both herself and all these infeoffments to
that noble
captain, my late enemy, Captain Ager."
Col.'s Sist. How, sir?
Col. Read it again, sir; let her hear it plain.
Col.'s Sist. Pray, spare your pains, sir; 'tis too plain
already.—
Good sir, how do you? is your memory perfect?
This will makes question of you: I bestowed
So much grief and compassion a' your wound,
I never looked into your senses' epilepsy:
The sickness and infirmity of your judgment
Is to be doubted now more than your body's.
Why, is your love no dearer to me, sir,
Than to dispose me so upon the man
Whose fury is your body's present torment,
The author of your danger? one I hate
Beyond the bounds of malice. Do you not feel
His wrath upon you? I beseech you, sir,
Alter that cruel article!
Col. Cruel, sister?—
Forgive me, natural love, I must offend thee,
Speaking to this woman.—Am I content,
Having much kindred, yet to give thee all,
Because in thee I'd raise my means to goodness,
And canst thou prove so thankless to my bounty,
To grudge my soul her peace? is my intent
To leave her rich, whose only desire is
To send me poorer into the next world
Than ever usurer went, or politic statist?
Is it so burdensome for thee to love
Where I forgive? O, wretched is the man
That builds the last hopes of his saving comforts
Upon a woman's charity! he's most miserable:
If it were possible, her obstinate will
Will pull him down in his midway to Heaven.
I've wronged that worthy man past recompense,
And in my anger robbed him of fair fame:
And thou the fairest restitution art
My life could yield him: if I knew a fairer,
I'd set thee by and thy unwilling goodness,
And never make my sacred peace of thee:
But there's the cruelty of a fate debarred
Thou art the last, and all, and thou art hard!
Col.'s Sist. Let your grieved heart hold better thoughts of me;
I will not prove so, sir; but since you enforce it
With such a strength of passion, I'll perform
What by your will you have enjoined me to,
Though the world never show me joy again.
Col. O, this may be fair cunning for the time,
To put me off, knowing I hold not long:
And when I look to have my joys accomplished,
I shall find no such things: that were vile cozenage,
And not to be repented.
Col.'s Sist. By all the blessedness
Truth and a good life looks for, I will do't, sir!
Col. Comforts reward you for't whene'er you grieve!
I know if you dare swear, I may believe.
[Exit the Colonel's Sister. Scene closes.

SCENE III.

A Room in Lady AGER'S House.

Enter Captain AGER.

Cap. Ager. No sooner have I entrance i' this house now
But all my joy falls from me, which was wont
To be the sanctuary of my comforts:
Methought I loved it with a reverent gladness,
As holy men do consecrated temples
For the saint's sake, which I believed my mother;
But proved a false faith since, a fearful heresy.
O, who'd erect the assurance of his joys
Upon a woman's goodness! whose best virtue
Is to commit unseen, and highest secrecy
To hide but her own sin; there's their perfection:
And if she be so good, which many fail of too,
When these are bad, how wondrous ill are they!
What comfort is't to fight, win this day's fame,
When all my after-days are lamps of shame?

Enter Lady AGER.

Lady Ager. Blessings be firm to me! he's come, 'tis he!—
[Aside.
A surgeon speedily!
Cap. Ager. A surgeon? why, madam?
Lady Ager. Perhaps you'll say 'tis but a little wound;
Good to prevent a danger:—quick, a surgeon!
Cap. Ager. Why, madam?
Lady Ager. Ay, ay, that's all the fault of valiant men,
They'll not be known a' their hurts till they're past help,
And then too late they wish for't.
Cap. Ager. Will you hear me?
Lady Ager. 'Tis no disparagement to confess a wound;
I'm glad, sir, 'tis no worse:—a surgeon quickly!
Cap. Ager. Madam—
Lady Ager. Come, come, sir, a wound's honourable,
And never shames the wearer.
Cap. Ager. By the justice
I owe to honour, I came off untouched!
Lady Ager. I'd rather believe that.
Cap. Ager. You believe truth so.
Lady Ager. My tears prevail then. Welcome, welcome, sir,
As peace and mercy to one new departed!
Why would you go though, and deceive me so,
When my abundant love took all the course
That might be to prevent it? I did that
For my affection's sake—goodness forgive me for't!—
That were my own life's safety put upon't,
I'd rather die than do't. Think how you used me then
And yet would you go and hazard yourself too!
'Twas but unkindly done.
Cap. Ager. What's all this, madam?
Lady Ager. See, then, how rash you were and short in wisdom!
Why, wrong my faith I did, slandered my constancy,
Belied my truth; that which few mothers will,
Or fewer can, I did, out of true fear
And loving care, only to keep thee here.
Cap. Ager. I doubt I'm too quick of apprehension now,
And that's a general fault when we hear joyfully,
With the desire of longing for't: I ask it,
Why, were you never false?
Lady Ager. May death come to me
Before repentance then!
Cap. Ager. I heard it plain sure—
Not false at all?
Lady Ager. By the reward of truth,
I never knew that deed that claims the name on't!
Cap. Ager. May, then, that glorious reward you swore by
Be never-failing to you! all the blessings
That you have given me, since obedient custom
Taught me to kneel and ask 'em, are not valuable
With this immaculate blessing of your truth:
This is the palm to victory,
The crown for all deserts past and to come:
Let 'em be numberless; they are rewarded,
Already they're rewarded. Bless this frame,
I feel it much too weak to bear the joy on't. [Kneels.
Lady Ager. Rise, sir.
Cap. Ager. O, pardon me!
I cannot honour you too much, too long.
I kneel not only to a mother now,
But to a woman that was never false:
Ye're dear, and ye're good too; I think a' that:
What reverence does she merit! 'tis fit such
Should be distinguished from the prostrate sex;
And what distinction properer can be shown,
Than honour done to her that keeps her own?
Lady Ager. Come, sir, I'll have you rise.
Cap. Ager. To do a deed, then, [Rises.
That shall for ever raise me. O my glory,
Why, this, this is the quarrel that I looked for!
The t'other but a shift to hold time play.
You sacred ministers of preservation,
For Heaven's sake send him life,
And with it mighty health, and such a strength
May equal but the cause! I wish no foul things:
If life but glow in him, he shall know instantly
That I'm resolved to call him to account for't.
Lady Ager. Why, hark you, sir—
Cap. Ager. I bind you by your honour, madam,
You speak no hindrance to's; take heed, you ought not.
Lady Ager. What an unhappiness have I in goodness!
'Tis ever my desire to intend well,
But have no fortunate way in't. For all this
Deserve I yet no better of you
But to be grieved again? Are you not well
With honest gain of fame, with safety purchased?
Will you needs tempt a ruin that avoids you? [Exit.
Cap. Ager. No, you've prevailed; things of this nature sprung,
When they use action must use little tongue.—

Enter Servant.

Now, sir, the news?
Ser. sir, there's a gentlewoman
Desires some conference with you.
Cap. Ager. How, with me?
A gentlewoman? what is she?
Ser. Her attendant
Delivered her to be the colonel's sister.
Cap. Ager. O, for a storm then! [Exit Servant.] 'las, poor,
virtuous gentlewoman,
I will endure her violence with much pity!
She comes to ease her heart, good, noble soul;
'Tis e'en a charity to release the burden;
Were not that remedy ordained for women,
Their hearts would never hold three years together:
And here she comes; I never marked so much of her;

Enter the Colonel's Sister.

That face can be the mistress of no anger
But I might very well endure a month, methinks.—
I am the man; speak, lady; I'll stand fair.
Col's Sist. And I'm enjoined by vow to fall thus low,
[Kneels.
And, from the dying hand of a repentant,
Offer, for expiation of wrongs done you,
Myself, and with myself all that was his,
Which upon that condition was made mine,
Being his soul's wish to depart absolute man,
In life a soldier, death a Christian.
Cap. Ager. O, Heaven has touched him nobly! how it shames
My virtue's slow perfection! Rise, dear brightness—
I forget manners too—up, matchless sweetness!
Col's. Sist. I must not, sir; there is not in my vow
That liberty; I must be received first,
Or all denied; if either, I am free.
Cap. Ager. He must be without soul should deny thee;
And with that reverence I receive the gift
As it was sent me. [Raises her.] Worthy colonel,
Has such a conquering way i' the blest things!
Whoever overcomes, he only wins. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

A Street. A noise of "hem" within.

Enter Captain ALBO, MEG, and PRISS.

Meg. Hark of these hard-hearted bloodhounds! these butchers are e'en
as
merciless as their dogs; they knock down a women's fame e'en as it walks the
streets by 'em.
Priss. And the captain here that should defend us walks by like John o
f
the apple-loft.
Cap. Albo. What for interjections, Priss, hem, evax, vah? let the
carnifexes scour their throats! thou knowest there is a curse hangs over their
bloody heads; this year there shall be more butchers' pricks burnt than of all
trades besides.
Meg. I do wonder how thou camest to be a captain.
Cap. Albo. As thou camest to be a bawd, Meg, and Priss to be a whore;
every one by their deserts.
Meg. Bawd and whore? out, you unprofitable rascal! hast not thou been
at the new play yet, to teach thee better manners? truly they say they are the
finest players, and good speakers of gentlewomen of our quality; bawd and
whore
is not mentioned amongst 'em, but the handsomest narrow-mouthed names
they have
for us, that some of them may serve as well for a lady as for one of our
occupation.
Priss. Prithee, patroness, let's go see a piece of that play; if we
shall have good words for our money, 'tis as much as we can deserve, i'faith.
Meg. I doubt 'tis too late now; but another time, servant.
Cap. Albo. Let's go now, sweet face; I am acquainted with one of the
pantomimics; the bulchins will use the Irish captain with respect, and you two
shall be boxed amongst the better sort.
Priss. Sirrah Captain Albo, I doubt you are but white-livered; look
that you defend us valiantly, you know your penance else.—Patroness, you
remember how you used him once?
Meg. Ay, servant, and I shall never forget it till I use him so
again.—Do you remember, captain?
Cap. Albo. Mum, Meg; I will not hear on't now.
Meg. How I and my amazons stript you as naked as an Indian—
Cap. Albo. Why, Meg—
Meg. And then how I bound you to the good behaviour in the open
fields—
Priss. And then you strowed oats upon his hoppers—
Cap. Albo. Prithee, sweet face—
Priss. And then brought your ducks to nibble upon him.—You
remember?
Cap. Albo. O, the remembrance tortures me again! no more, good sweet
face.
Meg. Well, lead on, sir; but hark a little.

Enter CHOUGH and TRIMTRAM.

Chough. Didst thou bargain for the bladders with the butcher, Trim?
Trim. Ay, sir, I have 'em here; I'll practise to swim too, sir, and
then I may roar with the water at London Bridge: he that roars by land and by
water both is the perfect roarer.
Chough. Well, I'll venture to swim too: if my father-in-law gives me
a
good dowry with his daughter, I shall hold up my head well enough.
Trim. Peace, sir; here's practice for our roaring, here's a centaur and
two
hippocrenes.
Chough. Offer the jostle, Trim.
[TRIMTRAM jostles Captain ALBO.
Cap. Albo. Ha! what meanest thou by that?
Trim. I mean to confront thee, cyclops.
Chough. I'll tell thee what 'a means—is this thy sister?
Cap. Albo. How then, sir?
Chough. Why, then, I say she is a bronstrops; and this is a fucus.
Priss. No, indeed, sir; we are both fucusses.
Cap. Albo. Art thou military? art thou a soldier?
Chough. A soldier? no, I scorn to be so poor; I am a roarer.
Cap. Albo. A roarer?
Trim. Ay, sir, two roarers.
Cap. Albo. Know, then, my fresh-water friends, that I am a captain.
Chough. What, and have but two to serve under you?
Cap. Albo. I am now retiring the field.
Trim. You may see that by his bag and baggage.
Chough. Deliver up thy panagron to me.
Trim. And give me thy sindicus.
Cap. Albo. Deliver?
Meg. I pray you, captain, be contented; the gentlemen seem to give us
very good words.
Chough. Good words? ay, if you could understand 'em; the words cost
twenty pound.
Meg. What is your pleasure, gentlemen?
Chough. I would enucleate my fructifier.
Priss. What says he, patroness?
Meg. He would enoculate: I understand the gentleman very pithily.
Cap. Albo. Speak, are you gentle or plebeian? can you give arms?
Chough. Arms? ay, sir; you shall feel our arms presently.
Trim. 'Sault you the women; I'll pepper him till he stinks again: I
perceive what countrymen he is; let me alone with him.
Cap. Albo. Darest thou charge a captain?
Trim. Yes, and discharge upon him too.
Cap. Albo. Foh, 'tis poison to my country, the slave has eaten
pippins!
O, shoot no more! turn both thy broadsides rather than thy poop; 'tis
foul play;
my country breeds no poison. I yield; the great O Toole shall yield on these
conditions.
Chough. I have given one of 'em a fair fall, Trim.
Trim. Then thus far we bring home conquest.—
Follow me, captain; the cyclops doth command.
Chough. Follow me, tweaks, the centaur doth command.
Meg. Anything, sweet gentlemen: will't please you to lead to the
tavern, where we'll make all friends?
Trim. Why, now you come to the conclusion.
Chough. Stay, Trim; I have heard your tweaks are like your mermaids,
they have sweet voices to entice the passengers: let's have a song, and then
we'll set 'em at liberty.
Trim. In the commendation of roaring, not else, sir.
Chough. Ay, in the commendation of roaring.
Meg. The best we can, gentlemen.
[Sings, PRISS joining in chorus.

Then here thou shalt resign
Both captain and commander;
That name was never thine,
But apple-squire and pander;
And henceforth will we grant,
In pillage or in monies,
In clothing or provant,
Whate'er we get by conies:
With a hone, a hone, a hone,
No cheaters nor decoys
Shall have a share, but alone
The bravest roaring boys.

Whate'er we get by gulls
Of country or of city,
Old flat-caps or young heirs,
Or lawyers' clerks so witty;
By sailors newly landed,
To put in for fresh waters;
By wandering gander-mooners,
Or muffled late night-walkers.
With a hone, &c.

Whate'er we get by strangers,
The Scotch, the Dutch, or Irish,
Or, to come nearer home,
By masters of the parish;
It is concluded thus,
By all and every wench,
To take of all their coins,
And pay 'em back in French.
With a hone, &c.

Chough. Melodious minotaur!
Trim. Harmonious hippocrene!
Chough. Sweet-breasted bronstrops!
Trim. Most tunable tweak!
Chough. Delicious duplar!
Trim. Putrefactious panagron!
Chough. Calumnious callicut!
Trim. And most singular sindicus!
Meg. We shall never be able to deserve these good words at
your hands,
gentlemen.
Cap. Albo. Shake golls with the captain; he shall be thy valiant
friend.
Chough. Not yet, captain; we must make an end of our roaring first.
Trim. We'll serve 'em as we did the tobacco-man, lay a curse upon 'em;
marry, we'll lay it on gently, because they have used us so kindly, and then
we'll shake golls together.
Priss. As gently as you can, sweet gentlemen.
Chough. For thee, O pander, mayst thou trudge till the damned soles
of
thy boots fleet into dirt, but never rise into air!
Trim. Next, mayst thou fleet so long from place to place, till thou
be'st kicked out of Fleet Street!
Chough. As thou hast lived by bad flesh, so rotten mutton be thy
bane!
Trim. When thou art dead, may twenty whores follow thee, that thou
mayst go a squire to thy grave!
Cap. Albo. Enough for me, sweet faces; let me sleep in my grave.
Chough. For thee, old sindicus, may I see thee ride in a caroch with
two wheels, and drawn with one horse.
Trim. Ten beadles running by, instead of footmen!
Chough. With every one a whip, 'stead of an Irish dart!
Trim. Forty barbers' basins sounding before, instead of trumpets!
Meg. This will be comely indeed, sweet gentlemen roarers.
Trim. Thy ruff starched yellow with rotten eggs!
Chough. And mayst thou then be drawn from Holborn to Hounslow Heath!
Trim. And then be burnt to Colebrook, for destroying of Maidenhead!
Meg. I will study to deserve this kindness at your hands, gentlemen.
Chough. Now, for thee, little fucus; mayst thou first serve out thy
time as a tweak, and then become a bronstrops, as she is!
Trim. Mayst thou have a reasonable good spring, for thou art likely
to
have many dangerous foul falls!
Chough. Mayst thou have two ruffs torn in one week!
Trim. May spiders only weave thy cobweb-lawn!
Chough. Mayst thou set up in Rogue-lane—
Trim. Live till thou stinkest in Garden-alleys—
Chough. And die sweetly in Tower-ditch!
Priss. I thank you for that, good sir roarer.
Chough. Come, shall we go now, Trim? my father-in-law stays for me
all
this while.
Trim. Nay, I'll serve 'em as we did the tobacco-man; I'll bury 'em
altogether, and give 'em an epitaph.
Chough. All together, Trim? why, then, the epitaph will be
accessary to
the sin. Trim. Alas, he has kept the door all his life-time! for pity,
let 'em lie together in their graves.
Cap. Albo. E'en as thou wilt, Trim, and I thank you too, sir.
Trim. He that the reason would know, let him hark,
Why these three were buried near Marybone Park:
These three were a pander, a bawd, and a whore,
That sucked many dry to the bones before.
Will you know how they lived? here't may be read:
The Low Countries did ever find 'em bread;
They lived by Flushing, by Sluys, and the Groyne,
Sickened in France, and died under the Line.
Three letters at last commended 'em hither,
But the hangman broke one in putting together:
P was the first, who cries out for a pardon,
O craves his book, yet could not read such a hard one,
An X was the last, which in conjunction
Was broke by Brandon; and here's the conclusion:
By three trees, three letters, these three, pander, bawd, whore,
Now stink below ground, stunk long above before.
Chough. So, now we have done with you; remember roaring boys.
Trim. Farewell, centaur!
Chough. Farewell, bronstrops!
Trim. Farewell, fucus!
[Exeunt CHOUGH and TRIMTRAM.
Cap. Albo. Well, Meg, I will learn to roar, and still maintain the
name
of captain over these lance-presa-does.
Meg. If thou dost not, mayst thou be buried under the roaring curse!
[Exeunt.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

A Room in RUSSELL'S House.

Enter Physician, and JANE dressed as a bride.

PHY. Will you be obstinate?
Jane. Torment me not,
Thou lingering executioner to death,
Greatest disease to nature, that striv'st by art
To make men long a-dying! your practice is
Upon men's bodies; as men pull roses
For their own relish, but to kill the flower,
So you maintain your lives by others' deaths:
What eat you then but carrion?
Phy. Fie, bitterness!
Ye'd need to candy o'er your tongue a little,
Your words will hardly be digested else.
Jane. You can give yourself a vomit to return 'em,
If they offend your stomach.
Phy. Hear my vow;
You are to be married to-day—
Jane. A second torment,
Worse than the first, 'cause unavoidable!
I would I could as soon annihilate
My father's will in that as forbid thy lust!
Phy. If you then tender an unwilling hand,
Meet it with revenge, marry a cuckold.
Jane. If thou wilt marry me, I'll make that vow,
And give my body for satisfaction
To him that should enjoy me for his wife.
Phy. Go to; I'll mar your marriage.
Jane. Do; plague me so:
I'll rather bear the brand of all that's past,
In capital characters upon my brow,
Than think to be thy whore or marry him.
Phy. I will defame thee ever—
Jane. Spare me not.
Phy. I will produce thy bastard,
Bring thee to public penance—
Jane. No matter, I care not;
I shall then have a clean sheet; I'll wear twenty,
Rather than one defiled with thee.
Phy. Look for revenge!
Jane. Pursue it fully then.—Out of his hate
I shall escape, I hope, a loathed fate. [Aside and exit.
Phy. Am I rejected, all my baits nibbled off,
And not the fish caught? I'll trouble the whole stream,
And choke it in the mud: since hooks not take,
I'll throw in nets that shall or kill or break.

Enter TRIMTRAM with rosemary.

This is the bridegroom's man.—Hark, sir, a word.
Trim. 'Tis a busy day, sir, nor I need no physic;
You see I scour about my business.
Phy. Pray you, a word, sir: your master is to be married to-day?
Trim. Else all this rosemary's lost.
Phy. I would speak with your master, sir.
Trim. My master, sir, is to be married this morning, and cannot be
with
in while soon at night.
Phy. If you will do your master the best service
That e'er you did him; if he shall not curse
Your negligence hereafter slacking it;
If he shall bless me for the dearest friend
That ever his acquaintance met withal;
Let me speak with him ere he go to church.
Trim. A right physician! you would have none go to the church nor
churchyard till you send them thither: well, if Death do not spare you
yourselves, he deals hardly with you, for you are better benefactors and send
more to him than all diseases besides.
Chough. [Within.] What, Trimtram, Trimtram!
Trim. I come, sir.—Hark you, you may hear him! he's upon the
spur,
and would fain mount the saddle of matrimony; but, if I can, I'll persuade him
to come to you.
Phy. Pray you, do, sir. [Exit TRIMTRAM.]—I'll teach all
peevish niceness
To beware the strong advantage of revenge.

Enter CHOUGH.

Chough. Who's that would speak with me?
Phy. None but a friend, sir; I would speak with you.
Chough. Why, sir, and I dare speak with any man under the universe.
Can
you roar, sir?
Phy. No, in faith, sir;
I come to tell you mildly for your good,
If you please to hear me: you are upon marriage?
Chough. No, sir; I am towards it, but not upon it yet.
Phy. Do you know what you do?
Chough. Yes, sir, I have practised what to do before now; I would be
ashamed to be married else: I have seen a bronstrops in my time, and a
hippocrene, and a tweak too.
Phy. Take fair heed, sir; the wife that you would marry
Is not fit for you.
Chough. Why, sir, have you tried her?
Phy. Not I, believe it, sir; but believe withal
She has been tried.
Chough. Why, sir, is she a fructifer or a fucus?
Phy. All that I speak, sir, is in love to you:
Your bride, that may be, has not that portion
That a bride should have.
Chough. Why, sir, she has a thousand and a better penny.
Phy. I do not speak of rubbish, dross, and ore,
But the refinèd metal, honour, sir.
Chough. What she wants in honour shall be made up in worship, sir;
money will purchase both.
Phy. To be plain with you, she's naught.
Chough. If thou canst not roar, thou'rt a dead man! my bride naught?
[Drawing his sword.
Phy. Sir, I do not fear you that way; what I speak [Drawing his
sword.
My life shall maintain; I say she is naught.
Chough. Dost thou not fear me?
Phy. Indeed I do not, sir.
Chough. I'll never draw upon thee while I live for that trick; put up
and speak freely.
Phy. Your intended bride is a whore; that's freely, sir.
Chough. Yes, faith, a whore's free enough, an she hath a conscience:
is
she a whore? foot, I warrant she has the pox then.
Phy. Worse, the plague; 'tis more incurable.
Chough. A plaguy whore? a pox on her, I'll none of her!
Phy. Mine accusation shall have firm evidence;
I will produce an unavoided witness,
A bastard of her bearing.
Chough. A bastard? 'snails, there's great suspicion she's a whore
then!
I'll wrestle a fall with her father for putting this trick upon me, as I am a
gentleman.
Phy. Good sir, mistake me not; I do not speak
To break the contract of united hearts;
I will not pull that curse upon my head,
To separate the husband and the wife;
But this, in love, I thought fit to reveal,
As the due office betwixt man and man,
That you might not be ignorant of your ills.
Consider now of my premonishment
As yourself shall please.
Chough. I'll burn all the rosemary to sweeten the house, for, in my
conscience, 'tis infected: has she drunk bastard? if she would piss me wine-
vinegar now nine times a day, I'd never have her, and I thank you too.

Re-enter TRIMTRAM.

Trim. Come, will you come away, sir? they have all rosemary, and stay
for you to lead the way.
Chough. I'll not be married to-day, Trimtram: hast e'er an almanac
about thee? this is the nineteenth of August, look what day of the month 'tis.
Trim. 'Tis tenty-nine indeed, sir.
[Looks in an almanac.
Chough. What's the word? what says Bretnor?
Trim. The word is, sir, "There's a hole in her coat."
Chough. I thought so; the physician agrees with him; I'll not marry
to-
day.
Trim. I pray you, sir; there will be charges for new rosemary else;
this will be withered by to-morrow.
Chough. Make a bonfire on't, to sweeten Rosemarylane: prithee, Trim,
entreat my father-in-law that might have been, to come and speak with me.
Trim. The bride cries already and looks t'other way; an you be so
backward too, we shall have a fine arseward wedding on't. [Exit.
Chough. You'll stand to your words, sir?
Phy. I'll not fly the house, sir;
When you have need, call me to evidence.
Chough. If you'll prove she has borne a bastard, I'll stand to't
she's
a whore. [Exit Physician.

Enter RUSSELL and TRIMTRAM.

Rus. Why, how now, son? what causeth these delays?
All stay for your leading.
Chough. Came I from the Mount to be confronted?
Rus. How's that, sir?
Chough. Canst thou roar, old man?
Rus. Roar? how mean you, sir?
Chough. Why, then, I'll tell thee plainly, thy daughter is a
bronstrops.
Rus. A bronstrops? what's that, sir?
Trim. Sir, if she be so, she is a hippocrene.
Chough. Nay, worse, she is a fructifer.
Trim. Nay, then, she is a fucus, a minotaur, and a tweak.
Rus. Pray you, speak to my understanding, sir.
Chough. If thou wilt have it in plain terms, she is a callicut and a
panagron.
Trim. Nay, then, she is a duplar and a sindicus.
Rus. Good, sir, speak English to me.
Chough. All this is Cornish to thee; I say thy daughter has drunk
bastard in her time.
Rus. Bastard? you do not mean to make her a whore?
Chough. Yes, but I do, if she make a fool of me; I'll ne'er make her m
y
wife till she have her maidenhead again.
Rus. A whore? I do defy this calumny.
Chough. Dost thou? I defy thee then.
Trim. Do you, sir? then I defy thee too: fight with us both at once
in
this quarrel, if thou darest!
Chough. I could have had a whore at Plymouth.
Trim. Ay, or at Pe'ryn.
Chough. Ay, or under the Mount.
Trim. Or as you came at Ivel.
Chough. Or at Wookey-Hole in Somersetshire.
Trim. Or at the Hanging-stones in Wiltshire.
Chough. Or at Maidenhead in Berkshire: and did I come in by
Maidenhead
to go out by Staines? O, that man, woman, or child would wrestle with me for a
pound of patience! Rus. Some thief has put in poison at your ears,
To steal the good name of my child from me;
Or if it be a malice of your own,
Be sure I will enforce a proof from you.
Chough. He's a goose and a woodcock that says
I will not prove any word that I speak.
Trim. Ay, either goose or woodcock; he shall, sir, with any man.
Chough. Phy-si-ci-an! mauz avez physician!
Rus. Is he the author?

Re-enter Physician.

Phy. Sir, with much sorrow for your sorrow's sake,
I must deliver this most certain truth:
Your daughter is an honour-stainèd bride,
Indeed she is the mother to a child
Before the lawful wife unto a husband.
Chough. La, that's worse than I told thee; I said she had borne a
bastard, and he says she was the mother on't too.
Rus. I'm yet an infidel against all this,
And will believe the sun is made of brass,
The stars of amber—
Chough. And the moon of a Holland cheese.
Rus. Rather than this impossibility.
O, here she comes.

Re-enter JANE with ANNE.

Nay, come, daughter, stand at the bar of shame;
Either now quit thyself, or kill me ever:
Your marriage-day is spoiled, if all be true.
Jane. A happy misery! who's my accuser?
Phy. I am, that knows it true I speak.
Chough. Yes, and I'm his witness.
Trim. And I.
Chough. And I again.
Trim. And I again too; there's four, that's enough, I hope.
Rus. How can you witness, sir, that nothing know
But what you have received from his report?
Chough. Must we not believe our physicians? pray you, think I know as
much as every fool does.
Trim. Let me be Trimtram, I pray you too, sir.
Jane. Sir, if this bad man have laid a blemish
On my white name, he is a most false one,
Defaming me for the just denial
Of his foul lust.—Nay, now you shall be known, sir.
Anne. Sir, I'm his sister, and do better know him
Than all of you: give not too much belief
To his wild words; he's oftentimes mad, sir.
Phy. I thank you, good sister!
Anne. Are you not mad
To do this office? fie upon your malice!
Phy. I'll presently produce both nurse and child,
Whose very eyes shall call her mother before it speaks.
[Exit.
Chough. Ha, ha, ha, ha! by my troth, I'd spend a shilling on that
condition to hear that: I think in my conscience I shall take the physician in
a
lie; if the child call her mother before it can speak, I'll never wrestle
while
I live again.
Trim. It must be a she child, if it do, sir; and those speak the
soonest of any living creatures, they say.
Chough. Baw, waw! a dog will bark a month sooner; he's a very puppy
else.
Rus. Come, tell truth 'twixt ourselves; here's none but friends:
One spot a father's love will soon wipe off;
The truth, and thereby try my love abundant;
I'll cover it with all the care I have,
And yet, perhaps, make up a marriage-day.
Jane. Then it's true, sir, I have a child.
Rus. Hast thou?
Well, wipe thine eyes; I'm a grandfather then.
If all bastards were banished, the city would be thin
In the thickest term-time. Well, now let me alone,
I'll try my wits for thee.—Richard, Francis, Andrew!
None of my knaves within?

Enter Servant.

Ser. Here's one of 'em, sir: the guests come in apace.
Rus. Do they, Dick? let 'em have wine and sugar; we'll be for 'em
presently; but hark, Dick.
[Whispers Servant.
Chough. I long to hear this child speak, i'faith, Trim; I would this
foolish physician would come once.
Trim. If it calls her mother, I hope it shall never call you father.
Chough. No; an it do, I'll whip it, i'faith, and give thee leave to
whip me.
Rus. Run on thy best legs, Dick.
Sir. I'll be here in a twinkling, sir. [Exit.

Re-enter Physician with Dutch Nurse and Child.

Phy. Now, gentlemen, believe your eyes, if not
My tongue.—Do not you call this your child?
Chough. Phew, that's not the point! you promised us the child should
call her mother; if it does this month, I'll ne'er go to the roaring school
again.
Rus. Whose child is this, nurse?
Nurse. Dis gentleman's, so he to me readen.
[Points to the Physician.
Chough. 'Snails, she's the physician's bronstrops, Trim!
Trim. His fucus, his very tweak, i'faith.
Chough. A glister in his teeth! let him take her, with a purgation to
him!
Rus. 'Tis as your sister said, you are stark mad, sir,
This much confirms it; you have defamed
Mine honest daughter; I'll have you punished for't,
Besides the civil penance of your sin,
And keeping of your bastard.
Phy. This is fine!
All your wit and wealth must not thus carry it.
Rus. Sir Chough, a word with you.
Chough. I'll not have her, i'faith, sir; if Trimtram will have her,
an
he will, let him.
Trim. Who, I, sir? I scorn it: if you'll have her, I'll have her too;
I'll do as you do, and no otherwise.
Rus. I do not mean't to either; this only, sir,
That whatsoe'er you've seen, you would be silent;
Hinder not my child of another husband,
Though you forsake her.
Chough. I'll not speak a word, i'faith.
Rus. As you are a gentleman?
Chough. By these basket-hilts, as I am a youth, a gentleman, a
roarer.
Rus. Charm your man, I beseech you, too.
Chough. I warrant you, sir, he shall do nothing but what I do before
him.
Rus. I shall most dearly thank you.—

Re-enter Servant with FITZALLEN.

O, are you come?
Welcome, son-in-law! this was beyond your hope:
We old men have pretty conceits sometimes;
Your wedding-day's prepared, and this is it;
How think you of it?
Fitz. As of the joyfullest
That ever welcomed me! you show yourself now
A pattern to all kind fathers.—My sweetest Jane!
Rus. Your captivity I meant but as sauce
Unto your wedding-dinner; now I'm sure
'Tis far more welcome in this short restraint
Than had it freely come.
Fitz. A thousandfold.
Jane. I like this well. [Aside.
Chough. I have not the heart to see this gentleman gulled so; I will
reveal; I make it mine own case; 'tis a foul case.
Trim. Remember you have sworn by your hilts.
Chough. I'll break my hilts rather than conceal: I have a trick; do
thou follow me; I will reveal it, and yet not speak it neither.
Trim. 'Tis my duty to follow you, sir.
Chough. [Sings.] "Take heed in time, O man, unto thy head!"
Trim. [Sings.] "All is not gold that glistereth in bed."
Rus. Why, sir,—why, sir!
Chough. [Sings.] "Look to't, I say, thy bride is a bronstrops."
Trim. [Sings.] "And knows the thing that men wear in their slops."
Fitz. How's this, sir?
Chough. [Sings.] "A hippocrene, a tweak, for and a fucus."
Trim. [Sings.] "Let not fond love with foretops so rebuke us."
Rus. Good sir—
Chough. [Sings.] "Behold a baby of this maid's begetting."
Trim. [Sings.] "A deed of darkness after the sunsetting."
Rus. Your oath, sir!
Chough. [Sings.] "I swear and sing thy bride has taken physic."
Trim. [Sings.] "This was the doctor cured her of that phthisic."
Chough. [Sings.] "If you'll believe me, I will say no more."
Trim. [Sings.] "Thy bride's a tweak, as we do say that roar."
Chough. Bear witness, gentlemen, I have not spoke a word; my hilts are
whole still.
Fitz. This is a sweet epithalamium
Unto the marriage-bed, a musical,
Harmonious Iö! Sir, you have wronged me,
And basely wronged me! was this your cunning fetch,
To fetch me out of prison, for ever to marry me
Unto a strumpet?
Rus. None of those words, good sir;
'Tis but a fault, and 'tis a sweet one too.
Come, sir, your means is short; lengthen your fortunes
With a fair proffer: I'll put a thousand pieces
Into the scale, to help her to weigh it up,
Above the first dowry.
Fitz. Ha? you say well;
Shame may be bought out at a dear rate;
A thousand pieces added to her dowry! Rus. There's five hundred of 'em
to make the bargain; [Gives money.
I've worthy guests coming, and would not delude 'em;
Say, speak like a son to me.
Fitz. Your blessing, sir;
We are both yours:—witness, gentlemen,
These must be made up a thousand pieces,
Added to a first thousand for her dowry,
To father that child.
Phy. O, is it out now?
Chough. For t'other thousand, I'll do't myself yet.
Trim. Or I, if my master will.
Fitz. The bargain's made, sir; I have the tender
And possession both, and will keep my purchase.
Chough. Take her e'en to you with all her moveables;
I'll wear my bachelor's buttons still.
Trim. So will I, i'faith; they are the best flowers in any man's
garden, next to heart's-ease.
Fitz. This is as welcome as the other, sir.
And both as the best bliss that e'er on earth
I shall enjoy. Sir, this is mine own child;
You could not have found out a fitter father;
Nor is it basely bred, as you imagine,
For we were wedded by the hand of Heaven
Ere this work was begun.
Chough. At Pancridge, I'll lay my life on't.
Trim. I'll lay my life on't too, 'twas there.
Fitz. Somewhere it was, sir.
Rus. Was't so, i'faith, son?
Jane. And that I must have revealed to you, sir,
Ere I had gone to church with this fair groom;
But, thank this gentleman, he prevented me.—
I am much bound unto your malice, sir.
Phy. I am ashamed.
Jane. Shame to amendment then.
Rus. Now get you together for a couple of cunning ones!
But, son, a word; the latter thousand pieces
Is now more than the bargain.
Fitz. No, by my faith, sir,
Here's witness enough on it; it must serve
To pay my fees, imprisonment is costly.
Chough. By my troth, the old man has gulled himself finely! Well,
sir,
I'll bid myself a guest, though not a groom; I'll dine, and dance, and roar at
the wedding for all this.
Trim. So will I, sir, if my master does.
Rus. Well, sir, you're welcome: but now no more words on't
Till we be set at dinner, for there will mirth
Be the most useful for digestion:
See, my best guests are coming.

Enter Lady AGER, the Colonel's Sister, Captain AGER, his two
Friends, and Surgeon.

Cap. Ager. Recovered, sayst thou?
Surg. May I be excluded quite out of Surgeons' Hall else! marry, I
must
tell you the wound was fain to be twice corroded; 'twas a plain
gastroraphe, and
a deep one; but I closed the lips on't with bandages and sutures, which is a
kind conjunction of the parts separated against the course of nature.
Cap. Ager. Well, sir, he is well.
Surg. I feared him, I assure you, captain; before the suture in the
belly, it grew almost to a convulsion, and there was like to be a bloody issue
from the hollow vessels of the kidneys.
Cap. Ager. There's that, to thank thy news and thy art together.
[Gives him money.
Surg. And if your worship at any time stand in need of incision, if it
be
your fortune to light into my hands, I'll give you the best.
Cap. Ager. Uncle, the noble colonel's recovered.
Rus. Recovered?
Then honour is not dead in all parts, coz.

Enter the Colonel and two Friends.

1st Fr. of Cap. Behold him yonder, sir.
Cap. Ager. My much unworthiness
Is now found out; thou'st not a face to fit it.
1st Fr. of Col. Sir, yonder's Captain Ager.
Col. O lieutenant,
The wrong I've done his fame puts me to silence;
Shame so confounds me, that I dare not see him.
Cap. Ager. I never knew how poor my deserts were
Till he appeared; no way to give requital!
Here shame me lastingly, do't with his own:
Return this to him; tell him I have riches
In that abundance in his sister's love,
These come but to oppress me, and confound
All my deservings everlastingly;
I never shall requite my wealth in her, say.
[Giving the will to his Friend, who delivers it to the
Colonel.
How soon from virtue and an honoured spirit
May man receive what he may never merit!
Col. This comes most happily, to express me better;
For since this will was made, there fell to me
The manor of Fitzdale; give him that too;
[Returning the will with other papers.
He's like to have charge,
There's fair hope of my sister's fruitfulness:
For me, I never mean to change my mistress,
And war is able to maintain her servant.
1st Fr. of Cap. Read there; a fair increase, sir, by my faith;
He has sent it back, sir, with new additions.
Cap. Ager. How miserable he makes me! this enforces me
To break through all the passages or shame,
And headlong fall—
Col. Into my arms, dear worthy!
Cap. Ager. You have a goodness
Has put me past my answers; you may speak
What you please now, I must be silent ever.
Col. This day has shown me joy's unvalued treasure;
I would not change this brotherhood with a monarch;
Into which blest alliance sacred Heaven
Has placed my kinsman, and given him his ends:
Fair be that quarrel makes such happy friends!
[Exeunt.

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