Beaumont and Fletcher's Works. Volume 9

Actus Quartus. Scæna Prima

Enter Cesario and a Servant

 
Cesar.
Let any friend have entrance.
 
 
Servant. Sir a'shall.
 
 
Cesar. Any, I except none.
 
 
Serv. We know, your mind Sir.
 

[ —Exit.

 
Cesar. Pleasures admit no bounds.
I am pitcht so high
To such a growth of full prosperities
That to conceal my fortunes were an injury
To gratefulness, and those more liberall favours
By whom my glories prosper. He that flowes
In gracious and swolne tydes of best abundance,
Yet will be Ignorant of his own fortunes,
Deserves to live contemn'd, and dye forgotten;
The harvest of my hopes is now already
Ripen'd and gather'd, I can fatten youth
With choice of plenty, and supplies of comforts,
My fate springs in my own hand, and I'll use it.
 

Enter 2 Servants and Biancha

 
1 'Tis my place.
 
 
2 Yours? here fair one, I'll aquaint my Lord.
 
 
1 He's here, go to him boldly.
 
 
2 Please you to let him understand how readily
I waited on your errand?
 
 
1 Saucy fellow, you must excuse his breeding.
Cesar. What's the matter?
 
 
Biancha, my Biancha, to your offices.
 

[Exit Ser.

 
This visit (Sweet) from thee (my pretty dear)
By how much more 'twas unexpected, comes
So much the more timely: witness this free welcome,
What ere occasion led thee.
 
 
Bian. You must guess Sir,
Yet indeed 'tis a rare one.
 
 
Ces. Prethee speak it, my honest virtuous maid.
 
 
Bian. Sir I have heard
Of your misfortunes, and I cannot tell you
Whether I have more cause of joy or sadness,
To know they are a truth.
 
 
Ces. What truth Biancha? misfortunes, how, wherein?
 
 
Bian. You are disclaym'd
For being the Lord Alberto's Son, and publickly
Acknowledg'd of as mean a birth as mine is,
It cannot chuse but greive ye.
 
 
Ces. Greive me? Ha ha ha ha? Is this all?
 
 
Bian. This all?
 
 
Ces. Thou art sorry for't
I warrant thee: alas good soul, Biancha,
That which thou call'st misfortune is my happiness,
My happiness Biancha.
 
 
Bian. If you love me, it may prove mine too.
 
 
Ces. May it? I will love thee.
My good, good maid,
If that can make thee happy,
Better and better love thee.
 
 
Bian. Without breach then
Of modesty I come to claime the Interest
Your protestations, both by vows and letters,
Have made me owner of: from the first hour
I saw you, I confess I wisht I had been
Or not so much below your rank and greatness,
Or not so much above those humble flames
That should have warm'd my bosome with a temperate
Equality of desires in equal fortunes.
Still as you utter'd Language of affection,
I courted time to pass more slowly on
That I might turn more fool to lend attention
To what I durst not credit, nor yet hope for:
Yet still as more I heard, I wisht to hear more.
 
 
Ces. Didst thou introth wench?
 
 
Bian. Willingly betraid
My self to hopeless bondage.
 
 
Ces. A good girl,
I thought I should not miss
What ere thy answer was.
 
 
Biancha. But as I am a maid Sir, and I'faith
You may believe me, for I am a maid,
So dearly I respected both your fame
And quality, that I would first have perisht
In my sick thoughts than ere have given consent
To have undone your fortunes by inviting
A marriage with so mean an one as I am.
I should have dyed sure, and no creature known
The sickness that had kill'd me.
 
 
Ces. Pretty heart, good Soul, alas, alas.
 
 
Bian. Now since I know
There is no difference 'twixt your birth and mine,
Not much 'twixt our estates, if any be,
The advantage is on my side, I come willingly
To tender you the first fruits of my heart,
And am content t'accept you for my husband,
Now when you are at lowest.
 
 
Ces. For a husband?
Speak sadly, dost thou mean so?
 
 
Bian. In good deed Sir,
'Tis pure love makes this proffer.
 
 
Ces. I believe thee,
What counsail urg'd thee on, tell me, thy Father
My worshipfull smug Host? wast not he wench?
Or mother Hostess? ha?
 
 
Bian. D'ee mock my parentage?
I doe not scorn yours.
Mean folks are as worthy
To be well spoken of if they deserve well,
As some whose onely fame lies in their blood,
O y'are a proud poor man: all your oaths falshood,
Your vows deceit, your letters forg'd, and wicked.
 
 
Ces. Thou'dst be my wife, I dare swear.
 
 
Bian. Had your heart,
Your hand and tongue been twins, you had reputed
This courtesy a benefit.
 
 
Ces. Simplicity,
How prettily thou mov'st me! why Biancha,
Report has coz'ned thee, I am not fallen
From my expected honors, or possessions,
Though from the hope of birthright.
 
 
Bian. Are you not?
 
 
Then I am lost again, I have a suit too;
 
 
You'll grant it if you be a good man.
 
 
Ces. Any thing.
 
 
Bian. Pray doe not talk of ought what I have said t'ee.
 
 
Ces. As I wish health I will not.
 
 
Bian. Pitty me, but never love me more.
 
 
Ces. Nay now y'are cruell,
Why all these tears? – Thou shalt not go.
 
 
Bian. I'll pray for ye
That you may have a virtuous wife, a fair one,
And when I am dead —
 
 
Ces. Fy, fy.
 
 
Bian. Think on me sometimes,
With mercy for this trespass.
 
 
Ces. Let us kiss
At parting as at coming.
 
 
Bian. This I have
As a free dower to a virgins grave,
All goodness dwell with ye. —
 

[Exit.

 
Ces. Harmeless Biancha! unskill'd;
What hansome toyes are maids to play with!
 

Enter Mariana and Clarissa

 
How innocent! But I have other thoughts
Of nobler meditation. – my felicity,
Thou commest as I could wish, lend me a lip
Soft as melting as when old Alberto
After his first nights triall taking farewell
Of thy youth's conquest tasted.
 
 
Maria. You are uncivill.
 
 
Ces. I will be Lord of my own pleasures, Madam
Y'are mine, mine freely,
Come, no whimpering henceforth
New con the lessons of loves best experience,
That our delights may meet in equal measure
Of resolutions and desires; this sulleness
Is scurvy, I like it not.
 
 
Mar. Be modest.
And do not learn Cesario how to prostitute
The riot of thy hopes to common folly;
Take a sad womans word, how ere thou doat'st
Upon the present graces of thy greatnes.
Yea I am not falen so below my constancy
To virtue, nor the care which I once tend'red
For thy behoof that I prefer a sentence
Of cruelty before my honor.
 
 
Ces. Honor!
 
 
Maria. Hear me, thou seest this girl! now the comfort
Of my last days. She is the onely pledge
Of a bed truely noble: shee had a father
(I need not speak him more than thou remembrest)
Whom to dishonor by a meaner choice,
Were injury and infamy.
 
 
Claris. To goodnes,
To time and virtuous mention.
 
 
Mar. I have vow'd,
Observe me now Cesario, that how ere
I may be forc'd to marry, yet no tyranny,
Persuasions, flattery, guifts, intreats, or tortures,
Shall draw me to a second bed.
 
 
Clar. Tis just too.
 
 
Maria. Yes and 'tis just Clarissa. I allow
The Duke's late sentence, am resolv'd young man
To be thy wife, but when the ceremony
Of marriage is perform'd, in life I will be,
Though not in name, a widdow.
 
 
Ces. Pray a word t'ee,
Shall I in earnest never be your bedfellow?
 
 
Maria. Never, O never; and 'tis for your good too.
 
 
Ces. Prove that.
 
 
Mar. Alas too many years are numbred
In my account to entertain the benefit
Which youth in thee Cesario, and ability
Might hope for and require, it were Injustice
To rob a gentleman deserving memory
Of Issue to preserve it.
 
 
Ces. No more herein,
You are an excellent pattern of true piety,
Let me now turn your advocate. Pray look into
The order of the Duke. Injoyn'd, admit
I satisfie the sentence without mariage
With you, how then?
 
 
Mar. Cesario.
 
 
Ces. If I know
How to acquit your fears, yet keep th'injunction
In every clause whole and entire, your charity
Will call me still your servant.
 
 
Mar. Still my son.
 
 
Ces. Right Madam, now you have it, still your son.
The Genius of your blessings hath instructed
Your tongue oraculously, we will forget
How once I and Clarissa enterchang'd
The tyes of brother and of sister, henceforth
New stile us man and wife.
 
 
Cla. By what authority?
 
 
Ces. Heavens great appointment, yet in all my dotage
On thy perfections, when I thought Clarissa
We had been pledges of one womb, no lose
No wanton heat of youth, desir'd to claime
Priority in thy affections, other
Than nature might commend. Chastly I tend'red
Thy welfare as a brother ought; but since
Our bloods are strangers, let our hearts contract
A long life-lasting unity, for this way
The sentence is to be observ'd or no way.
 
 
Mar. Then no way.
 
 
Ces. I expected other answer Madam from you.
 
 
Mar. No, every age shall curse me,
The monster, and the prodigie of nature,
Horrors beyond extremity.
 
 
Cla. Pray mother confine the violence of greif.
 
 
Ces. Yes mother, pray do.
 
 
Mar. Thus some catch at a matrons honor
By flying lust to plot Incestuous witchcrafts.
More terrible than whoredomes; cruell mercy!
When to preserve the body from a death
The soul is strangled.
 
 
Ces. This is more than passion,
It comes near to distraction.
 
 
Mar. I am quieted.
Cesario, thou mayest tell the Duke securely
Alberto's titles, honors and revenues,
The Duke may give away, enjoy them thou.
Clarissas birthright, Marianas dower
Thou shalt be Lord of; turn us to the world
Unpittied and unfriended, yet my bed
Thou never sleep'st in; as for her; she hears me,
If she as much as in a thought consent;
That thou may'st call her wife, a Mothers curse
Shall never leave her.
 
 
Clar. As a brother once
I lov'd you, as a noble friend yet honor ye,
But for a husband sir, I dare not own you,
My faith is given already.
 
 
Ces. To a Villain, I'll cut his throat.
 
 
Mar. Why this is more than passion!
It comes near a distraction.
 
 
Clar. Call to mind Sir.
How much you have abated of that goodness
Which once reign'd in ye, they appear'd so lovely
That such as friendship led to observation
 

Enter Baptista and Mentivole

 
Courted the great example.
 
 
Ces. Left, and flatter'd into a broad derision?
 
 
Mar. Why d'ee think so?
My Lord Baptista, is your Son grown cold
In hasting on the marriage, which his vows
Have seal'd to my wrong'd daughter?
 
 
Bap. We come Lady, to consummate the contract.
 
 
Ces. With Mentivole? is he the man?
 
 
Ment. Clarissas, troth and mine,
Cesario, are recorded in a character
So plain and certain, that except the hand
Of heaven, which writ it first, would blot it out again,
No humane power can raze it.
 
 
Ces. But say you so too young Lady?
 
 
Cla. I should else betray
My heart to falshood, and my tongue to perjury.
 
 
Ces. Madam, you know the sentence.
 
 
Bap. From the Duke,
I have particular comforts which require
A private [e]are.
 
 
Mar. I shall approve it gladly
We are resolv'd Cesario.
 
 
Bap. Be not insolent upon a Princes favor.
 
 
Cla. Loose no glory,
Your younger years have purchast.
 
 
Ment. And deserved too, y'have many worthy freinds.
 
 
Bap. Preserve and use them.
 

[Exeunt. Manet Cesar.

 
Ces. Good, very good, why here's a complement
Of mirth in desperation, I could curse
My fate: O with what speed men tumble down
From hopes that soar too high. Biancha now
May scorn me justly too, Clarissa married,
Alberto's widdow resolute, Biancha
Refus'd, and I forsaken: let me study,
I can but die a Batchelor that's the worst on't.
 

[Exit.

Enter Host, Taylor, Muliter, Dancer, Pedant, Coxcombe

 
Host. Come Gentlemen,
This is the day that our great artist hath
Promis'd to give all your severall suits satisfaction.
 
 
Dancer. Is he stirring?
 
 
Host. He hath been at his book these t[w]o hours.
 
 
Pedant. He's a rare Physitian.
 
 
Host. Why I'll tell you,
Were Paracelsus the German now
Living, he'd take up his single rapier against his
Terrible long sword, he makes it a matter of nothing
To cure the gout, sore eyes he takes out as familiarly,
Washes them, and puts them in again,
As you'd blanch almonds.
 
 
Tay. They say he can make gold.
 
 
Host. I, I, he learnt it of Kelly in Germanny.
There's not a Chymist
In christendome can goe beyond him for multiplying.
 
 
Pedant. Take heed then;
He get not up your daughters belly my Host.
 
 
Host. You are a merry Gentleman
And the man of art will love you the better.
 
 
Dancer. Does he love mirth and crotchets?
 
 
Host. O he's the most courteous Physitian,
You may drink or drab in's company freely,
The better he knows how your disease grows,
The better he knows how to cure it.
 
 
Danc. But I wonder my Host
He has no more resort of Ladyes to him.
 
 
Host. Why Sir?
 
 
Dan. O divers of them have great beleif in conjurers:
Lechery is a great help to the quality.
 
 
Host. He's scarce known to be in town yet,
Ere long we shall have 'em come
Hurrying hither in Fetherbeds.
 
 
Dan. How? bedridden?
 
 
Host. No sir, in fetherbeds that move upon 4 wheels in
Spanish caroches.
 
 
Ped. Pray accquaint him we give attendance.
 
 
Host. I shall gentlemen; I would fain be rid
Of these rascalls, but that they raise profit
To my wine cellar.
When I have made use of them sufficiently,
I will intreat the conjurer to tye crackers to their tails,
And send them packing.
 

Enter Forobosco as in his Study. (A paper)

 
Foro. Come hither mine Host, look here.
 
 
Host. What's that?
 
 
Foro. A challenge from my man.
 
 
Host. For breaking's pate?
 
 
Foro. He writes here if I meet him not
I'th' Feild within this half hour,
I shall hear more from him.
 
 
Host. O sir, minde your profit,
Ne'er think of the rascall, here are the gentlemen.
 
 
Foro. 'Morrow my worthy clients,
What are you all prepar'd of your questions;
That I may give my resolution upon them?
 
 
Omnes. We are Sir.
 
 
Pedant. And have brought our mony.
 
 
Foro. Each then in order,
And differ not for precedency.
 
 
Dan. I am buying of an office Sir,
And to that purpose I would fain learn
To dissemble cunningly.
 
 
Foro. Doe you come to me for that? you should rather
Have gone to a cunning woman.
 
 
Danc. I sir but their Instructions are but like wom[e]n,
Pretty well but not to the depth, as I'd have it:
You are a conjurer, the devils Master,
And I would learn it from you so exactly.
 
 
Foro. That the devill himself
Might not go beyond you.
 
 
Dane. You are i'th' right Sir.
 
 
Foro. And so your mony for your purchase
Might come in again within a 12 month.
 
 
Danc. I would be a Graduate sir, no freshman.
 
 
F[e]ro. Here's my hand sir,
I will make you dissemble so methodically,
As if the divell should be sent from the great Turk,
In the shape of an Embassador
To set all the Christian princes at variance.
 
 
Danc. I cannot with any modesty desire any more.
There's your mony sir.
 
 
Foro. For the art of dissembling.
 
 
Cox. My suit sir will be news to you when I tell it.
 
 
Foro. Pray on.
 
 
Cox. I would set up a press here in Italy,
To write all the Corantos for Christendome.
 
 
Foro. That's news indeed,
And how would you imploy me in't?
 
 
Cox. Marry sir, from you
I would gain my intelligence.
 
 
Foro. I conceive you, you would have me furnish you
With a spirit to informe you.
 
 
Cox. But as quiet a Divell as the woman,
The first day and a half after she's married,
I can by no means indure a terrible one.
 
 
Foro. No, no, I'll qualifie him,
He shall not fright you,
It shall be the ghost of some lying Stationer,
A Spirit shall look as if butter would not melt in his
mouth. A new Mercurius Gallo-belgicus.
 
 
Cox. O there was a captain was rare at it.
 
 
Foro. Ne'er thinke of him,
Though that captain writ a full hand gallop,
And wasted indeed more harmeless paper than
Ever did laxative Physick,
Yet will I make you to out-scribble him,
And set down what you please,
The world shall better believe you.
 
 
Cox. Worthy sir I thank you, there's mony.
 
 
Foro. A new office
For writing pragmaticall Curranto's.
 
 
Pedant. I am a school-master sir,
And would fain conferre with you
About erecting 4 new sects of religion at Amsterdam.
 
 
Foro. What the Divell should
New sects of religion doe there?
 
 
Pedant. I assure you I would get
A great deal of money by it.
 
 
Foro. And what are the 4 new sects
Of religion you would plant there?
 
 
Ped. Why that's it I come about sir,
'Tis a Divel of your raising must invent 'em,
I confess I am too weak to compass it.
 
 
Foro. So sir, then you make it a matter of no difficulty
To have them tolerated.
 
 
Pedant. Trouble not your self for that,
Let but your Divel set them a foot once.
I have Weavers, and Ginger-bread makers,
And mighty Aquavitæ-men, shall set them a going.
 
 
Foro. This is somewhat difficult,
And will aske some conference with the divell.
 
 
Ped. Take your own leasure sir,
I have another business too, because I mean
To leave Italy, and bury my self in those neather parts
Of the low countries.
 
 
Foro. What's that sir.
 
 
Ped. Marry I would fain make 9 dayes to the week,
for the more ample benefit of the captain.
 
 
Foro. You have a shrewd pate sir.
 
 
Ped. But how this might be compass'd?
 
 
Foro. Compass'd easily; tis but making
A new Almanack, and dividing the compass
Of the year into larger penny-worths,
As a Chandler with his compass makes
A Geometrick proportion of the Holland cheese
He retailes by stivers.
But for getting of it licenc'd?
 
 
Ped. Trouble not your self with that sir,
There's your mony.
 
 
Foro. For four new sects of religions,
And 9 dayes to the week.
 
 
Ped. To be brought in at general pay-dayes,
Write I beseech you.
 
 
Foro. At generall pay-dayes.
 
 
Taylor. I am by profession a Taylor,
You have heard of me.
 
 
Foro. Yes sir, and will not steal from you
The least part of that commendation I have heard utter'd.
 
 
Taylor. I take measure of your worth sir,
And because I will not afflict you with any large bill
Of circumstances, I will snip off particulars.
I would fain invent some strange
And exquisite new fashions.
 
 
Foro. Are you not travel'd sir.
 
 
Tay. Yes sir, but have observ'd all we can see
Or invent, are but old ones with new names to'em,
Now I would some way or other grow more curious.
 
 
Foro. Let me see; to devise new fashions —
Were you never in the Moon?
 
 
Tay. In the Moon tavern! yes sir, often.
 
 
Foro. No, I do mean in the new world,
In the world that's in the Moon yonder.
 
 
Tay. How? a new world 'ith' moon?
 
 
Foro. Yes I assure you.
 
 
Tay. And peopled?
 
 
Foro. O most fantastically peopled.
 
 
Tay. Nay certain then there's work for taylors?
 
 
Foro. That there is I assure you.
 
 
Tay. Yet I have talked with a Scotch taylor
That never discover'd so much to me,
Though he has travell'd far, and was a pedlar in Poland.
 
 
Foro. That was out of his way,
This lies beyond China:
You would study new fashions you say?
Take my councell, make a voyage,
And discover that new world.
 
 
Tay. Shall I be a moon-man?
 
 
Foro. I am of opinion, the people of that world
(If they be like the nature of that climate they live in)
Do vary the fashion of their cloaths oftener than any
Quick-silver'd nation in Europe.
 
 
Tay. Not unlikely, but what should that be we call
The man in the moon then?
 
 
Foro. Why 'tis nothing but an Englishman
That stands there stark naked,
With a pair of sheers in one hand,
And a great bundle of broad cloath in the other
(Which resembles the bush of thorns)
Cutting out of new fashions.
 
 
Taylor. I have heard somewhat like this,
But how shall I get thither?
 
 
Foro. I'll make a new compass shall direct you.
 
 
Tay. Certain?
 
 
Foro. Count me else for no man of direction.
 
 
Tay. There's 20 duckats in hand, at my return
I'll give you a 100.
 
 
Foro. A new voyage to discover new fashions.
 
 
Mul. I have been a traveller too sir,
That have shewed strange beasts in Christendome,
And got money by them, but I find the trade to decay.
Your Camelion, or East-Indian hedg-hog
Gets very little mony, and your Elephant devours
So much bread, brings in so little profit,
His keeper were better every morning
Cram 15 Taylors with white manchet:
I would have some new spectacle,
And one that might be more attractive.
 
 
Foro. Let me see, were you ever in Spain?
 
 
Mule. Not yet Sir.
 
 
Foro. I would have you go to Madrill, and against some great festivall, when the court lies there, provide a great and spacious Eng[li]sh Oxe, and rost him whole, with a pudding in's bely; that would be the eighth wonder of the world in those parts I assure you.
 
 
Mule. A rare project without question.
 
 
Foro. Goe beyond all their garlike olle padridoes, though you sod one in Garguentuas couldron, bring in more money, then all the monsters of Affrick.
 
 
Host. Good Sir do your best for him; he's of my acquaintance, and one if ye knew him —
 
 
Foro. What is he?
 
 
Host. He was once a man of infinite letters.
 
 
Foro. A Scholar?
 
 
Host. No sir, a packet carrier, which is alwaies a man of many letters, you know: then he was Mule-driver, now he's a gentleman, and feeds monsters.
 
 
Foro. A most ungratefull calling.
 
 
Mule. There's money for your direction; the price of the Oxe Sir?
 
 
Foro. A hundred French crowns, for it must be a Lincolne-shire Oxe, and a prime one: For a rare and monstrous spectacle, to be seen at Madrill.
 

Enter Clown, Hostess, and Bianca

 
Hostes. Pray forbear sir, we shall have a new quarrell.
 
 
Clow. You durst not meet me 'ith field, I am therefore come to spoyl your market.
 
 
Foro. What's the newes with you sir.
 
 
Clow. Gentlemen, you that come hither to be most abominably cheated, listen, and be as wise as your planet will suffer you, keep your mony, be not gul'd, be not laught at.
 
 
Pedant. What means this? would I had my mony again in my pocket.
 
 
Host. The fellow is full of malice, do not mind him.
 
 
Clow. This profest cheating rogue was my master, and I confess my self a more preternotorious rogue than himself, in so long keeping his villainous counsell.
 
 
Foro. Come, come, I will not hear you.
 
 
Clow. No couz'ner, thou wouldest not hear me, I do but dare thee to suffer me to speak, and then thou and all thy divells spit fire, and spout Aqua fortis.
 
 
Foro. Speak on, I freely permit thee.
 
 
Clow. Why then know all you simple animals, you whose purses are ready to cast the calf; if they have not cast it already, if you give any credit to this jugling rascal, you are worse than simple widgins, and will be drawn into the net by this decoy duck, this tame cheater.
 
 
Foro. Ha, ha, ha, pray mark him.
 
 
Clow. He does profess Physicke, and counjuring; for his Physick; he has but two medicines for all manner of diseases; when he was i'th' low countryes, he us'd nothing but butter'd beer, colour'd with Allegant, for all kind of maladies, and that he called his catholick med'cine; sure the Dutch smelt out it was butter'd beer, else they would never have endur'd it for the names sake: then does he minister a grated Dogs turd instead of Rubarb, many times of Unicornes horn, which working strongly with the conceit of the Patient, would make them bescummer to the height of a mighty purgation.
 
 
Foro. The rogue has studied this invective.
 
 
Clow. Now for his conjuring, the witches of Lapland are the divells chare-women to him, for they will sell a man a wind to some purpose; he sells wind, and tells you fortie lyes over and over.
 
 
Hostess. I thought what we should find of him.
 
 
Host. Hold your prating, be not you an heretick.
 
 
Clow. Conjure! I'll tell you, all the divells names he calls upon are but fustion names, gather'd out of welch heraldry; in breif, he is a rogue of six reprieves, four pardons of course, thrice pilloried, twice sung Lacrymæ to the Virginalls of a carts tail, h'as five times been in the Gallies, and will never truely run himself out of breath, till he comes to the gallowes.
 
 
Foro. You have heard worthy gentlemen, what this lying, detracting rascall has vomited.
 
 
Tay. Yes certain, but we have a better trust in you, for you have ta'en our money.
 
 
Foro. I have so, truth is he was my servant, and for some chastisement I gave him, he does practise thus upon me; speak truely sirra, are you certain I cannot conjure?
 
 
Clow. Conjure! ha, ha, ha.
 
 
Foro. Nay, nay, but be very sure of it.
 
 
Clow. Sure of it? why I'll make a bargain with thee, before all these gentlemen, use all thy art, all thy roguery, and make me do any thing before al this company I have not a mind to, I'll first give thee leave to claime me for thy bond slave, and when thou hast done hang me.
 
 
Foro. 'Tis a match, sirra, I'll make you caper i'th' air presently.
 
 
Clow. I have too solid a body, and my belief is like a Puritans on Good-Friday, too high fed with capon.
 
 
Foro. I will first send thee to Green-land for a haunch of venison, just of the thickness of thine own tallow.
 
 
Clow. Ha, ha, ha, I'll not stir an inch for thee.
 
 
Foro. Thence to Amboyna i'th' East-Indies, for pepper to bake it.
 
 
Clow. To Amboyna? so I might be pepper'd.
 
 
Foro. Then will I conveigh thee stark naked to Develing to beg a pair of brogs, to hide thy mountainous buttocks.
 
 
Clow. And no doublet to 'em?
 
 
Foro. No sir, I intend to send you of a sleeveless errand; but before you vanish, in regard you say I cannot conjure, and are so stupid, and opinionated a slave, that neither I, nor my art can compell you to do any thing that's beyond your own pleasure, the gentlemen shall have some sport, you cannot endure a cat sirra?
 
 
Clow. What's that to thee Jugler?
 
 
Foro. Nor you'll do nothing at my entreaty?
 
 
Clow. I'll be hang'd first.
 
 
Foro. Sit Gentlemen, and whatsoever you see, be not frighted.
 
 
Hostess. Alas I can endure no conjuring.
 
 
Host. Stir not wife.
 
 
Bian. Pray let me go sir, I am not fit for these fooleryes.
 
 
Host. Move not daughter.
 
 
For. I wil make you dance a new dance call'd leap-frog.
 
 
Clow. Ha, ha, ha.
 
 
For. And as naked as a frog.
 
 
Clow. Ha, ha, ha, I defie thee.
 

[Forobosco looks in a book, strikes with his wand, Musick playes.

Enter 4. Boyes shaped like Frogs, and dance

 
P[e]dant. Spirits of the water in the likeness of frogs.
 
 
Tay. He has fisht fair believe me.
 
 
Mule. See, see, he sweats and trembles.
 
 
Foro. Are you come to your quavers?
 
 
Clow. Oh, ho, ho.
 
 
Foro. I'll make you run division on that o'r ere I leave you; looke you, here are the playfellowes that are so indear'd to you; come sir, first uncase, and then dance, nay I'll make him dance stark naked.
 
 
Host. Oh let him have his shirt on and his Mogols breeches, here are Women ith' house.
 
 
Foro. Well for their sakes he shall.
 

[Clown teares off his doublet, making strange faces as if compel'd to it, falls into the Dance.

 
Tay. He dances, what a lying rogue was this to say the gentleman could not conjure!
 
 
Foro. He does prettily well, but 'tis voluntary, I assure you, I have no hand in't.
 
 
Clow. As you are a Counjurer, and a rare Artist, free me from these couplets; of all creatures I cannot endure a Frog.
 
 
Foro. But your dancing is voluntary, I can compell you to nothing.
 
 
Hostes. O me, daughter, lets take heed of this fellow, he'll make us dance naked, an' we vex him. [ —Exeunt Hostess and Bianca.
 
 
Foro. Now cut capers sirra, I'll plague that chine of yours.
 
 
Clow. Ho, ho, ho, my kidneys are rosted. I drop away like a pound of butter rosted.
 
 
Tayl. He will dance himself to death.
 
 
Foro. No matter I'll sell his fat to the Pothecaries, and repair my injury that way.
 
 
Host. Enough in conscience.
 
 
Foro. Well, at your entreaty vanish. And now I wil only make him break his neck in doing a sommerset, and that's all the revenge I mean to take of him.
 
 
Clow. O gentlemen, what a rogue was I to belye so an approved Master in the noble dark science? you can witness, this I did only to spoyle his practise and deprive you of the happyness of injoying his worthy labors; rogue that I was to do it, pray sir forgive me.
 
 
Foro. With what face canst thou ask it?
 
 
Clow. With such a face as I deserve, with a hanging look, as all here can testifie.
 
 
Foro. Well gentlemen, that you may perceive the goodness of my temper, I will entertain this rogue againe in hope of amendment, for should I turn him off, he would be hang'd.
 
 
Clow. You may read that in this foul coppy.
 
 
Foro. Only with this promise, you shall never cozen any of my patients.
 
 
Clow. Never.
 
 
Foro. And remember hence forward, that though I cannot conjure, I can make you dance sirra, go get your self into the cottage again.
 

Enter Cæsario

 
Clow. I will never more dance leap-Frog: now I have got you into credit, hold it up, and cozen them in abundance.
 
 
Foro. Oh rare rascall.
 

[ —Exit Clown.

 
Cesar. How now, a Frankford mart here, a Mountebank, and his worshipfull auditory?
 
 
Host. They are my guests Sir.
 
 
Cesar. A – upon them, shew your jugling tricks in some other room.
 
 
Host. And why not here Sir?
 
 
Cesar. Hence, or sirra I shall spoil your figure flinging, and all their radicall questions.
 
 
Omnes. Sir we vanish.
 

[Exeunt. Manet Host. & Cesar.

 
Host. Signior Cesario, you make bold with me,
And somewhat I must tell you to a degree
Of ill manners: they are my guests, and men I live by,
And I would know by what authority
You command thus far.
 
 
Cesar. By my interest in your daughter.
 
 
Host. Interest do you call't? as I remember I never put
her out to Usury on that condition.
 
 
Cesar. Pray thee be not angry.
 

Enter Bianca and Hostess

 
I am come to make thee happy, and her happy:
She's here; alas my pretty soul, I am come
To give assurance that's beyond thy hope,
Or thy beleif, I bring repentance 'bout me,
And satisfaction, I will marry thee.
 
 
Bianca. Ha?
 
 
Cesar. As I live I will, but do not entertain't
With too quick an apprehension of joy,
For that may hurt thee, I have heard some dye of't.
 
 
Bian. Do not fear me.
 
 
Cesar. Then thou think'st I feign
This protestation, I will instantly
Before these testifie my new alliance,
Contract my self unto thee, then I hope
We may be more private.
 
 
Host. But thou shalt not sir,
For so has many a maiden-head been lost, and many a bastard gotten.
 
 
Ces. Then to give you the best of any assurance in the world,
Entreat thy father to go fetch a Preist
Wee will instantly to bed, and there be married.
 
 
Bian. Pride hath not yet forsaken you I see,
Though prosperity has.
 
 
Host. Sir you are too confident
To fashion to your self a dream of purchase
When you are a begger.
 
 
Ces. You are bold with me.
 
 
Hostes. Doe we not know your value is cried down
Fourscore i'th' hundred.
 
 
Bian. Oh sir I did love you
With such a fixed heart, that in that minute
Wherein you slighted, or contemn'd me rather,
I took a vow to obey your last decree,
And never more look up at any hope
Should bring me comfort that way: and though since
Your Foster-mother, and the fair Clarissa
Have in the way of marriage despis'd you,
That hath not any way bred my revenge,
But compassion rather. I have found
So much sorrow in the way to a chaste wedlock
That here I will set down, and never wish
To come to'th' journies end. Your suit to mee
Henceforth be ever silenc'd.
 
 
Cesar. My Bianca.
 
 
Hostes. Henceforward pray forbear her and my house:
She's a poor virtuous wench, yet her estate
May weigh with yours in a gold balance.
 
 
Host. Yes, and her birth in any Heralds office in
Christendom.
 
 
Hostes. It may prove so:
When you'll say, you have leapt a Whiting.
 

[Exit.

Enter Baptista and Mentivole

 
Ces. How far am I grown behind hand with fortune!
 
 
Bap. Here's Cesario!
My son Sir, is to morrow to be married
Unto the fair Clarissa.
 
 
Ces. So.
 
 
Ment. Wee hope you'll be a guest there.
 
 
Ces. No I will not grace your triumph so much.
 
 
Bap. I will not tax your breeding.
But it alters not your birth Sir, fare you well.
 
 
Ment. Oh Sir, doe not greive him,
He has too much affliction already.
 

[Exeunt.

Enter a Sailor

 
Ces. Every way scorn'd and lost,
Shame follow you
For I am grown most miserable.
 
 
Sail. Sir do you know a Ladies son in town here
They cal Cesario?
 
 
Cesar. There's none such I assure thee.
 
 
Sail. I was told you were the man.
 
 
Cesar. What's that to thee?
 
 
Sail. A – on't. You are melancholy, will you drink Sir?
 
 
Cesar. With whom?
 
 
Sail. With me Sir; despise not this pitch'd Canvas; the
time was we have known them lin'd with Spanish Duckets;
I have news for you:
 
 
Cesar. For me!
 
 
Sail. Not unless you'll drink;
We are like our Sea provision, once out of pickle,
We require abundance of drink; I have news to tell you,
That were you Prince,
Would make you send your mandate
To have a thousand bonfires made i'th' City
And pist out agen with nothing but Greek wine.
 
 
Cesar. Come, I will drink with thee howsoever.
 
 
Sail. And upon these terms I will utter my mind to you.
 

[Exeunt.