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Beaumont & Fletcher's Works (1 of 10) - The Custom of the Country by Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher

Part 2 out of 3

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Must I endure this?

_Zab._ Where's the Gentleman?

_Hip._ Go presently, pursue the stranger, _Zabulon_.
He has broke from me, Jewels I have given him:
Charge him with theft: he has stoln my love, my freedome,
Draw him before the Governour, imprison him,
Why dost thou stay?

_Zab._ I'le teach him a new dance,
For playing fast and loose with such a Lady.
Come fellows, come: I'le execute your anger,
And to the full.

_Hip._ His scorn shall feel my vengeance.-- [_Exeunt._

_Scena Tertia._

_Enter_ Sulpicia _and_ Jaques.

_Sul._ Shall I never see a lusty man again?

_Ja._ Faith Mistress
You do so over-labour 'em when you have 'em,
And so dry-founder 'em, they cannot last.

_Sul._ Where's the _French_-man?

_Ja._ Alas, he's all to fitters,
and lyes, taking the height of his fortune with a Syringe.
He's chin'd, he's chin'd good man, he is a mourner.

_Sul._ What's become of the _Dane_?

_Ja._ Who? goldy-locks?
He's foul i'th' touch-hole; and recoils again,
The main Spring's weaken'd that holds up his cock,
He lies at the sign of the _Sun_, to be new breech'd.

_Sul._ The Rutter too, is gone.

_Ja._ O that was a brave Rascal,
He would labour like a Thrasher: but alas
What thing can ever last? he has been ill mew'd,
And drawn too soon; I have seen him in the Hospital.

_Sul._ There was an _English_-man.

_Ja._ I there was an _English_-man;
You'l scant find any now, to make that name good:
There were those _English_ that were men indeed,
And would perform like men, but now they are vanisht:
They are so taken up in their own Country,
And so beaten of their speed by their own women,
When they come here, they draw their legs like Hackneys:
Drink, and their own devices have undone 'em.

_Sul._ I must have one that's strong, no life in _Lisbon_ else,
Perfect and young: my Custom with young Ladies,
And high fed City dames, will fall, and break else.
I want my self too, in mine age to nourish me:
They are all sunk I mantain'd: now what's this business,
What goodly fellow's that?

_Enter_ Rutilio _and_ Officers.

_Rut._ Why do you drag me?
Pox o' your justice; let me loose.

_1 Offi._ Not so Sir.

_Rut._ Cannot a man fall into one of your drunken Cellars,
And venture the breaking on's neck, your trap-doors open,
But he must be us'd thus rascally?

_1 Offi._ What made you wandring
So late i'th' night? you know that is imprisonment.

_Rut._ May be I walk in my sleep.

_2 Offi._ May be we'l walk ye.
What made you wandring Sir, into that vault
Where all the City store, and the Munition lay?

_Rut._ I fell into it by chance, I broke my shins for't:
Your worships feel not that: I knockt my head
Against a hundred posts, would you had had it.
Cannot I break my neck in my own defence?

_2 Offi._ This will not serve: you cannot put it off so,
Your coming thither was to play the villain,
To fire the Powder, to blow up that part o'th' City.

_Rut._ Yes, with my nose: why were the trap-doors open?
Might not you fall, or you, had you gone that way?
I thought your City had sunk.

_1 Offi._ You did your best Sir,
We must presume, to help it into th' Air,
If you call that sinking: we have told you what's the law,
He that is taken there, unless a Magistrate,
And have command in that place, presently
If there be nothing found apparent near him
Worthy his torture, or his present death,
Must either pay his fine for his presumption,
(Which is six hundred Duckets) or for six years
Tug at an Oar i'th' Gallies: will ye walk Sir,
For we presume you cannot pay the penalty.

_Rut._ Row in the Gallies, after all this mischief?

_2 Offi._ May be you were drunk, they'l keep you sober there.

_Rut._ Tug at an Oar? you are not arrant rascals,
To catch me in a pit-fall, and betray me?

_Sul._ A lusty minded man.

_Ja._ A wondrous able.

_Sul._ Pray Gentlemen, allow me but that liberty
To speak a few words with your prisoner,
And I shall thank you.

_1 Offi._ Take your pleasure Lady.

_Sul._ What would you give that woman should redeem ye,
Redeem ye from this slavery?

_Rut._ Besides my service
I would give her my whole self, I would be her vassal.

_Sul._ She has reason to expect as much, considering
The great sum she pays for't, yet take comfort,
What ye shall do to merit this, is easie,
And I will be the woman shall befriend ye,
'Tis but to entertain some handsome Ladies,
And young fair Gentlewomen: you guess the way:
But giving of your mind--

_Rut._ I am excellent at it:
You cannot pick out such another living.
I understand ye: is't not thus?

_Sul._ Ye have it.

_Rut._ Bring me a hundred of 'em: I'le dispatch 'em.
I will be none but yours: should another offer
Another way to redeem me, I should scorn it.
What women you shall please: I am monstrous lusty:
Not to be taken down: would you have Children?
I'le get you those as fast, and thick as flie-blows.

_Sul._ I admire him: wonder at him!

_Rut._ Hark ye Lady,
You may require sometimes--

_Sul._ I by my faith.

_Rut._ And you shall have it by my faith, and handsomly:
This old Cat will suck shrewdly: you have no Daughters?
I flye at all: now am I in my Kingdom.
Tug at an Oar? no, tug in a Feather-bed,
With good warm Caudles; hang your bread and water,
I'le make you young again, believe that Lady.
I will so frubbish you.

_Sul._ Come, follow Officers,
This Gentleman is free: I'le pay the Duckets.

_Rut._ And when you catch me in your City-powdring-tub
Again, boil me with Cabbidge.

_1 Offi._ You are both warn'd and arm'd Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Scena Quarta._

_Enter_ Leopold, Hippolyta, Zenocia.

_Zen._ Will your Ladyship wear this Dressing?

_Hip._ Leave thy prating:
I care not what I wear.

_Zen._ Yet 'tis my duty
To know your pleasure, and my worst affliction
To see you discontented.

_Hip._ Weeping too?
Prethee forgive me: I am much distemper'd,
And speak I know not what: to make thee amends
The Gown that I wore yesterday, is thine;
Let it alone awhile.

_Leo._ Now you perceive,
And taste her bounty.

_Zen._ Much above my merit.

_Leo._ But have you not yet found a happy time
To move for me.

_Zen._ I have watched all occasions,
But hitherto, without success: yet doubt not
But I'le embrace the first means.

_Leo._ Do, and prosper:
Excellent creature, whose perfections make
Even sorrow lovely, if your frowns thus take me,
What would your smiles doe?

_Hip._ Pox o' this stale Courtship:
If I have any power.

_Leo._ I am commanded,
Obedience is the Lovers sacrifice
Which I pay gladly.

_Hip._ To be forc'd to wooe,
Being a woman, could not but torment me,
But bringing for my advocates, youth and beauty,
Set off with wealth, and then to be deni'd too
Do's comprehend all tortures. They flatter'd me,
That said my looks were charms, my touches fetters,
My locks soft chains, to bind the arms of Princes,
And make them in that wish'd for bondage, happy.
I am like others of a coarser feature,
As weak to allure, but in my dotage, stronger:
I am no _Circe_; he, more than _Ulysses_,
Scorns all my offer'd bounties, slights my favours,
And, as I were some new Egyptian, flyes me,
Leaving no pawn, but my own shame behind him.
But he shall finde, that in my fell revenge,
I am a woman: one that never pardons
The rude contemner of her proffered sweetness.

_Enter_ Zabulon.

_Zab._ Madam, 'tis done.

_Hip._ What's done?

_Zab._ The uncivill stranger
Is at your suite arrested.

_Hip._ 'Tis well handled.

_Zab._ And under guard sent to the Governour,
With whom my testimony, and the favour
He bears your Ladiship, have so prevail'd
That he is sentenc'd.

_Hip._ How?

_Zab._ To lose his head.

_Hip._ Is that the means to quench the scorching heat
Of my inrag'd desires? must innocence suffer,
'Cause I am faulty? or is my Love so fatall
That of necessity it must destroy
The object it most longs for? dull _Hippolyta_,
To think that injuries could make way for love,
When courtesies were despis'd: that by his death
Thou shouldst gain that, which only thou canst hope for
While he is living: My honour's at the stake now,
And cannot be preserv'd, unless he perish,
The enjoying of the thing I love, I ever
Have priz'd above my fame: why doubt I now then?
One only way is left me, to redeem all:
Make ready my Caroch.

_Leo._ What will you Madam?

_Hip._ And yet I am impatient of such stay:
Bind up my hair: fye, fye, while that is doing
The Law may seise his life: thus as I am then,
Not like _Hippolyta_, but a _Bacchanal_
My frantique Love transports me. [_Exit._

_Leo._ Sure she's distracted.

_Zab._ Pray you follow her: I will along with you:
I more than ghess the cause: women that love
Are most uncertain, and one minute crave,
What in another they refuse to have. [_Exit._

_Scena Quinta._

_Enter_ Clodio, Charino.

_Clo._ Assure thy self _Charino_, I am alter'd
From what I was; the tempests we have met with
In our uncertain voyage, were smooth gales
Compar'd to those, the memory of my lusts
Rais'd in my Conscience: and if ere again
I live to see _Zenocia_, I will sue,
And seek to her as a Lover, and a Servant,
And not command affection, like a Tyrant.

_Char._ In hearing this, you make me young again,
And Heaven, it seems, favouring this good change in you
In setting of a period to our dangers
Gives us fair hopes to find that here in _Lisbon_
Which hitherto in vain we long have sought for.
I have receiv'd assur'd intelligence,
Such strangers have been seen here: and though yet
I cannot learn their fortunes, nor the place
Of their abode, I have a Soul presages
A fortunate event here.

_Clo._ There have pass'd
A mutual enterchange of courtesies
Between me, and the Governour; therefore boldly
We may presume of him, and of his power
If we finde cause to use them, otherwise
I would not be known here, and these disguises
Will keep us from discovery.

_Enter_ Manuel, Doctor, Arnoldo, Guard.

_Char._ What are these?

_Clo._ The Governour: with him my Rival, bound.

_Char._ For certain 'tis _Arnoldo_.

_Clo._ Let's attend
What the success will be.

_Mar._ Is't possible
There should be hope of his recovery,
His wounds so many and so deadly?

_Doct._ So they appear'd at first, but the blood stop'd,
His trance forsook him, and on better search
We found they were not mortal.

_Man._ Use all care
To perfect this unhop'd for cure: that done
Propose your own rewards: and till you shall
Hear farther from me, for some ends I have,
Conceal it from his Mother.

_Doct._ Wee'l not fail Sir. [_Exit._

_Man._ You still stand confident on your innocence.

_Arn._ It is my best and last guard, which I will not
Leave, to relye on your uncertain mercy.

_Enter_ Hippolyta, Zabulon, Leopold, Zenocia, 2 Servants.

_Hip._ Who bad you follow me! Goe home, and you Sir,
As you respect me, goe with her.

_Arn._ _Zenocia_!
And in her house a Servant!

_Char._ 'Tis my Daughter.

_Clo._ My love? Contain your joy, observe the sequel. [_Zen. passes._

_Man._ Fye Madam, how undecent 'tis for you,
So far unlike your self to bee seen thus
In th' open streets? why do you kneel? pray you rise,
I am acquainted with the wrong, and loss
You have sustain'd, and the Delinquent now
Stands ready for his punishment.

_Hip._ Let it fall, Sir,
On the offender: he is innocent,
And most unworthy of these bonds he wears,
But I made up of guilt.

_Man._ What strange turn's this?

_Leo._ This was my prisoner once.

_Hip._ If chastity
In a young man, and tempted to the height too
Did ere deserve reward, or admiration,
He justly may claim both. Love to his person
(Or if you please give it a fouler name)
Compel'd me first to train him to my house,
All engines I rais'd there to shake his vertue,
Which in the assault were useless; he unmov'd still
As if he had no part of humane frailty.
Against the nature of my Sex, almost
I plaid the Ravisher. You might have seen
In our contention, young _Apollo_ fly
And love-sick _Daphne_ follow, all arts failing,
By flight he wan the victory, breaking from
My scorn'd embraces: the repulse (in women
Unsufferable) invited me to practise
A means to be reveng'd: and from this grew
His Accusation, and the abuse
Of your still equall justice: My rage ever
Thanks heaven, though wanton, I found not my self
So far engag'd to Hell, to prosecute
To the death what I had plotted, for that love
That made me first desire him, then accuse him,
Commands me with the hazard of my self
First to entreat his pardon, then acquit him.

_Man._ What ere you are, so much I love your vertue,
That I desire your friendship: do you unloose him
From those bonds, you are worthy of: your repentance
Makes part of satisfaction; yet I must
Severely reprehend you.

_Leo._ I am made
A stale on all parts: But this fellow shall
Pay dearly for her favour.

_Arn._ My life's so full
Of various changes, that I now despair
Of any certain port; one trouble ending,
A new, and worse succeeds it: what should _Zenocia_
Do in this womans house? Can chastity
And hot Lust dwell together without infection?
I would not be or jealous, or secure,
Yet something must be done, to sound the depth on't:
That she lives is my bliss, but living there,
A hell of torments; there's no way to her
In whom I live, but by this door, through which
To me 'tis death to enter, yet I must,
And will make tryal.

_Man._ Let me hear no more
Of these devices, Lady: this I pardon,
And at your intercession I forgive
Your instrument the Jew too: get you home.
The hundred thousand crowns you lent the City
Towards the setting forth of the last Navy
Bound for the Islands, was a good then, which
I ballance with your ill now.

_Char._ Now Sir, to him,
You know my Daughter needs it.

_Hip._ Let me take
A farewell with mine eye, Sir, though my lip
Be barr'd the Ceremonie, courtesie
And Custom too allows of.

_Arn._ Gentle Madam,
I neither am so cold, nor so ill bred
But that I dare receive it: you are unguarded,
And let me tell you that I am asham'd
Of my late rudeness, and would gladly therefore
If you please to accept my ready service
Wait on you to your house.

_Hip._ Above my hope:
Sir, if an Angel were to be my convoy,
He should not be more welcom.-- [_Ex._ Arn. _and_ Hip.

_Clo._ Now you know me.

_Man._ Yes Sir, and honour you: ever remembring
Your many bounties, being ambitious only
To give you cause to say by some one service
That I am not ungratefull.

_Clod._ 'Tis now offer'd:
I have a suit to you, and an easie one,
Which e're long you shall know.

_Man._ When you think fit Sir,
And then as a command I will receive it,
Till when, most welcom: you are welcom too Sir,
'Tis spoken from the heart, and therefore needs not
Much protestation: at your better leisure
I will enquire the cause that brought you hither:
In the mean time serve you.

_Clod._ You out-doe me Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Duarte, Doctor.

_Dua._ You have bestow'd on me a second life,
For which I live your creature, and have better'd
What nature fram'd unperfect, my first being
Insolent pride made monstrous; but this later
In learning me to know my self, hath taught me
Not to wrong others.

_Doct._ Then we live indeed,
When we can goe to rest without alarm
Given every minute to a guilt-sick conscience
To keep us waking, and rise in the morning
Secure in being innocent: but when
In the remembrance of our worser actions
We ever bear about us whips and furies,
To make the day a night of sorrow to us,
Even life's a burthen.

_Dua._ I have found and felt it;
But will endeavour having first made peace
With those intestine enemies my rude passions,
To be so with man-kind: but worthy Doctor,
Pray if you can resolve me; was the Gentleman
That left me dead, ere brought unto his tryal?

_Doct._ Not known, nor apprehended.

_Dua._ That's my grief.

_Doct._ Why, do you wish he had been punished?

_Dua._ No,
The stream of my swoln sorrow runs not that way:
For could I find him, as I vow to Heaven
It shall be my first care to seek him out,
I would with thanks acknowledge that his sword,
In opening my veins, which proud bloud poison'd,
Gave the first symptoms of true health.

_Doct._ 'Tis in you
A Christian resolution: that you live
Is by the Governours, your Uncles charge
As yet conceal'd. And though a sons loss never
Was solemniz'd with more tears of true sorrow
Than have been paid by your unequal'd Mother
For your supposed death, she's not acquainted
With your recovery.

_Dua._ For some few dayes
Pray let her so continue: thus disguis'd
I may abroad unknown.

_Doct._ Without suspicion
Of being discovered.

_Dua._ I am confident
No moisture sooner dies than womens tears,
And therefore though I know my Mother vertuous,
Yet being one of that frail sex I purpose
Her farther tryal.

_Doct._ That as you think fit--I'le not betray you.

_Dua._ To find out this stranger
This true Physician of my mind and manners
Were such a blessing. He seem'd poor, and may
Perhaps be now in want; would I could find him.
The Innes I'le search first, then the publick Stewes;
He was of _Italy_, and that Country breeds not
Precisians that way, but hot Libertines;
And such the most are: 'tis but a little travail:
I am unfurnisht too, pray Mr. Doctor,
Can you supply me?

_Doct._ With what summ you please.

_Dua._ I will not be long absent.

_Doct._ That I wish too;
For till you have more strength, I would not have you
To be too bold.

_Dua._ Fear not, I will be carefull. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Leopold, Zabulon, Bravo.

_Zab._ I have brought him Sir, a fellow that will do it
Though Hell stood in his way, ever provided
You pay him for't.

_Leop._ He has a strange aspect,
And looks much like the figure of a hang-man
In a table of the Passion.

_Zab._ He transcends
All precedents, believe it, a flesh'd ruffian,
That hath so often taken the Strappado,
That 'tis to him but as a lofty trick
Is to a tumbler: he hath perused too
All Dungeons in _Portu[g]al_, thrice seven years
Rowed in the Galleys for three several murthers,
Though I presume that he has done a hundred,
And scap't unpunisht.

_Leop._ He is much in debt to you,
You set him off so well. What will you take Sir
To beat a fellow for me, that thus wrong'd me?

_Bra._ To beat him say you?

_Leop._ Yes, beat him to lameness,
To cut his lips or nose off; any thing,
That may disfigure him.

_Bra._ Let me consider?
Five hundred pistolets for such a service
I think were no dear penniworth.

_Zab._ Five hundred!
Why there are of your Brother-hood in the City,
I'le undertake, shall kill a man for twenty.

_Bra._ Kill him? I think so; I'le kill any man
For half the mony.

_Leop._ And will you ask more
For a sound beating than a murther?

_Bra._ I Sir,
And with good reason, for a dog that's dead,
The Spanish proverb says, will never bite:
But should I beat or hurt him only, he may
Recover, and kill me.

_Leo._ A good conclusion,
The obduracie of this rascal makes me tender.
I'le run some other course, there's your reward
Without the employment.

_Bra._ For that as you please Sir;
When you have need to kill a man, pray use me,
But I am out at beating. [_Exit._

_Zab._ What's to be done then?

_Leop._ I'le tell thee _Zabulon_, and make thee privy
To my most near designs: this stranger, which
_Hippolyta_ so dotes on, was my prisoner
When the last Virgin, I bestowed upon her,
Was made my prize; how he escaped, hereafter
I'le let thee know; and it may be the love
He bears the servant, makes him scorn the Mistris.

_Zab._ 'Tis not unlike; for the first time he saw her
His looks exprest so much, and for more proof
Since he came to my Ladys house, though yet
He never knew her, he hath practis'd with me
To help him to a conference, without
The knowledge of _Hippolyta_; which I promis'd.

_Leop._ And by all means perform it for their meeting,
But work it so, that my disdainful Mistris
(Whom, notwithstanding all her injuries,
'Tis my hard fate to love) may see and hear them.

_Zab._ To what end Sir?

_Leop._ This _Zabulon_: when she sees
Who is her rival, and her Lovers baseness
To leave a Princess for her bondwoman,
The sight will make her scorn, what now she dotes on,
I'le double thy reward.

_Zab._ You are like to speed then:
For I confess what you will soon believe,
We serve them best that are most apt to give,
For you, I'le place you where you shall see all, and yet be unobserv'd.

_Leop._ That I desire too. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Arnoldo.

_Arn._ I cannot see her yet, how it afflicts me
The poyson of this place should mix it self
With her pure thoughts? 'Twas she that was commanded,
Or my eyes failed me grosly; that youth, that face
And all that noble sweetness. May she not live here,
And yet be honest still?

_Enter_ Zenocia.

_Zen._ It is _Arnoldo_,
From all his dangers free; fortune I bless thee.
My noble husband! how my joy swells in me,
But why in this place? what business hath he here?
He cannot hear of me, I am not known here.
I left him vertuous; how I shake to think now!
And how that joy I had, cools, and forsakes me!

_Enter above_ Hippolyta _and_ Zabulon.

This Lady is but fair, I have been thought so
Without compare admired; She has bewitched him
And he forgot--

_Arn._ 'Tis she again, the same--the same _Zenocia_.

_Zab._ There they are together.--Now you may mark.

_Hip._ Peace, let 'em parly.

_Arn._ That you are well _Zenocia_, and once more
Bless my despairing eyes, with your wisht presence,
I thank the gods; but that I meet you here--

_Hip._ They are acquainted.

_Zab._ I found that secret Madam,
When you co[m]manded her go home: pray hear 'em.

_Zen._ That you meet me here, ne're blush at that _Arnoldo_.
Your coming comes too late: I am a woman,
And one woman with another may be trusted;
Do you fear the house?

_Arn._ More than a fear, I know it,
Know it not good, not honest.

_Zen._ What do you here then?
I'th' name of vertue why do you approach it?
Will you confess the doubt and yet pursue it?
Where have your eyes been wandring, my _Arnoldo_?
What constancy, what faith do you call this? Fie,
Aim at one wanton mark, and wound another?
I do confess, the Lady fair, most beauteous,
And able to betray a strong mans liberty,
[Leopold _places himself unseen below._
But you that have a love, a wife--you do well
To deal thus wisely with me: yet _Arnoldo_,
Since you are pleas'd to study a new beauty,
And think this old and ill, beaten with misery,
Study a nobler way for shame to love me,
Wrong not her honesty.

_Arn._ You have confirm'd me.

_Zen._ Who though she be your wife, will never hinder you,
So much I rest a servant to your wishes,
And love your Loves, though they be my destructions,
No man shall know me, nor the share I have in thee,
No eye suspect I am able to prevent you,
For since I am a slave to this great Lady,
Whom I perceive you follow,

_Arn._ Be not blinded.

_Zen._ Fortune shall make me useful to your service,
I will speak for you.

_Arn._ Speak for me? you wrong me.

_Zen._ I will endeavour all the wayes I am able
To make her think well of you; will that please?
To make her dote upon you, dote to madness,
So far against my self I will obey you.
But when that's done, and I have shewed this duty,
This great obedience, few will buy it at my price,
Thus will I shake hands with you, wish you well,
But never see you more, nor receive comfort
From any thing, _Arnoldo_.

_Arn._ You are too tender;
I neither doubt you, nor desire longer
To be a man, and live, than I am honest
And only yours; our infinite affections
Abus'd us both.

_Zab._ Where are your favours now?
The courtesies you shew'd this stranger, Madam?

_Hip._ Have I now found the cause?

_Zab._ Attend it further.

_Zen._ Did she invite you, do you say?

_Arn._ Most cunningly,
And with a preparation of that state
I was brought in and welcom'd.

_Zen._ Seem'd to love you?

_Arn._ Most infinitely, at first sight, most dotingly.

_Zen._ She is a goodly Lady.

_Arn._ Wondrous handsom:
At first view, being taken unprepar'd,
Your memory not present then to assist me,
She seem'd so glorious sweet, and so far stir'd me,
Nay be not jealous, there's no harm done.

_Zen._ Prethee--didst thou not kiss, _Arnoldo_?

_Arn._ Yes faith did I.

_Zen._ And then--

_Arn._ I durst not, did not--

_Zen._ I forgive you,
Come tell the truth.

_Arn._ May be I lay with her.

_Hip._ He mocks me too, most basely.

_Zen._ Did ye faith? did ye forget so far?

_Arn._ Come, come, no weeping;
I would have lyen first in my grave, believe that.
Why will you ask those things you would not hear?
She is too untemperate to betray my vertues,
Too openly lascivious: had she dealt
But with that seeming modesty she might,
And flung a little Art upon her ardor,
But 'twas forgot, and I forgot to like her,
And glad I was deceiv'd. No my _Zenocia_,
My first love here begun, rests here unreapt yet,
And here for ever.

_Zen._ You have made me happy,
Even in the midst of bondage blest.

_Zab._ You see now
What rubs are in your way.

_Hip._ And quickly _Zabulon_
I'le root 'em out.--Be sure you do this presently.

_Zab._ Do not you alter then.

_Hip._ I am resolute. [_Exit Zabulon._

_Arn._ To see you only I came hither last,
Drawn by no love of hers, nor base allurements,
For by this holy light I hate her heartily.

_Leop._ I am glad of that, you have sav'd me so much vengeance
And so much fear,
From this hour fair befal you.

_Arn._ Some means I shall make shortly to redeem you,
Till when, observe her well, and fit her temper,
Only her lust contemn.

_Zen._ When shall I see you?

_Arn._ I will live hereabouts, and bear her fair still,
Till I can find a fit hour to redeem you.

_Hip._ Shut all the doors.

_Arn._ Who's that?

_Zen._ We are betray'd,
The Lady of the house has heard our parly,
Seen us, and seen our Loves.

_Hip._ You courteous Gallant,
You that scorn all I can bestow, that laugh at
The afflictions, and the groans I suffer for you,
That slight and jeer my love, contemn the fortune
My favours can fling on you, have I caught you?
Have I now found the cause? ye fool my wishes;
Is mine own slave, my bane? I nourish that
That sucks up my content. I'le pray no more,
Nor wooe no more; thou shalt see foolish man,
And to thy bitter pain and anguish, look on
The vengeance I shall take, provok'd and slighted;
Redeem her then, and steal her hence: ho _Zabulon_
Now to your work.

_Enter_ Zabulon, _and_ Servants, _some holding_ Arnoldo,
_some ready with a cord to strangle_ Zenocia.

_Arn._ Lady, but hear me speak first,
As you have pity.

_Hip._ I have none. You taught me,
When I even hung about your neck, you scorn'd me.

_Zab._ Shall we pluck yet?

_Hip._ No, hold a little _Zabulon_,
I'le pluck his heart-strings first: now am I worthy
A little of your love?

_Arn._ I'le be your Servant,
Command me through what danger you shall aime at,
Let it be death.

_Hip._ Be sure Sir, I shall fit you.

_Arn._ But spare this Virgin.

_Hip._ I would spare that villain first,
Had cut my Fathers throat.

_Arn._ Bounteous Lady,
If in your sex there be that noble softness,
That tenderness of heart, women are crown'd for--

_Zen._ Kneel not _Arnoldo_, doe her not that honour,
She is not worthy such submission,
I scorn a life depends upon her pity.
Proud woman do thy worst, and arm thy anger
With thoughts as black as Hell, as hot and bloody,
I bring a patience here, shall make 'em blush,
An innocence, shall outlook thee, and death too.

_Arn._ Make me your slave, I give my freedom to ye,
For ever to be fetter'd to your service;
'Twas I offended, be not so unjust then,
To strike the innocent, this gentle maid
Never intended fear and doubt against you:
She is your Servant, pay not her observance
With cruel looks, her duteous faith with death.

_Hip._ Am I fair now? now am I worth your liking?

_Zen._ Not fair, not to be liked, thou glorious Devil,
Thou vernisht piece of lust, thou painted fury.

_Arn._ Speak gently sweet, speak gently.

_Zen._ I'le speak nobly.
'Tis not the saving of a life I aim at,
Mark me lascivious woman, mark me truly,
And then consider, how I weigh thy anger.
Life is no longer mine, nor dear unto me,
Than usefull to his honour I preserve it.
If thou hadst studied all the courtesies
Humanity and noble blood are linkt to,
Thou couldst not have propounded such a benefit,
Nor heapt upon me such unlookt for honour
As dying for his sake, to be his Martyr,
'Tis such a grace.

_Hip._ You shall not want that favour,
Let your bones work miracles.

_Arn._ Dear Lady
By those fair eyes--

_Hip._ There is but this way left ye
To save her life.--

_Arn._ Speak it, and I embrace it.

_Hip._ Come to my private chamber presently,
And there, what love and I command--

_Arn._ I'le doe it,
Be comforted _Zenocia_.

_Zen._ Do not do this
To save me, do not lose your self I charge you,
I charge you by your love, that love [you] bear me;
That love, that constant love you have twin'd to me,
By all your promises, take heed you keep 'em,
Now is your constant tryal. If thou dost this,
Or mov'st one foot, to guide thee to her lust,
My curses and eternal hate pursue thee.
Redeem me at the base price of dis-loyalty?
Must my undoubted honesty be thy Bawd too?
Go and intwine thy self about that body;
Tell her, for my life thou hast lost thine honour,
Pull'd all thy vows from heaven, basely, most basely
Stoop'd to the servile flames of that foul woman,
To add an hour to me that hate thee for it,
Know thee not again, nor name thee for a Husband.

_Arn._ What shall I do to save her?

_Hip._ How now, what hast there?

_Enter a_ Servant.

_Ser._ The Governour, attended with some Gentlemen,
Are newly entred, to speak with your Ladiship.

_Hip._ Pox o' their business, reprieve her for this hour,
I shall have other time.

_Arn._ Now fortune help us.

_Hip._ I'le meet 'em presently: retire awhile all. [_Exeunt._

_Zab._ You rise to day upon your right side Lady;
You know the danger too, and may prevent it,
And if you suffer her to perish thus,
As she must do, and suddenly, believe it,
Unless you stand her friend; you know the way on't,
I guess you poorly love her, less your fortune.
Let her know nothing, and perform this matter,
There are hours ordained for several businesses,
You understand.

_Arn._ I understand you Bawd Sir,
And such a Counsellour I never car'd for.

_Enter the_ Governour, Clodio, Leopold, Charino _and_
Attendants _at one door_, Hippolyta _at the other._

_Hip._ Your Lordship does me honour.

_Gover._ Fair _Hippolyta_,
I am come to ease you of a charge.

_Hip._ I keep none
I count a burthen Sir: and yet I lye too.

_Gover._ Which is the Maid; is she here?

_Clod._ Yes Sir,
This is she, this is _Zenocia_,
The very same I sued to your Lordship for.

_Zen._ _Clodio_ again? more misery? more ruin?
Under what angry star is my life govern'd?

_Gov._ Come hither Maid, you are once more a free woman,
Here I discharge your bonds.

_Arn._ Another smile,
Another trick of fortune to betray us!

_Hip._ Why does your Lordship use me so unnobly?
Against my will to take away my bond-woman?

_Gov._ She was no lawful prize, therefore no bond-woman:
She's of that Country we hold friendship with,
And ever did, and therefore to be used
With entertainment, fair and courteous.
The breach of League in us gives foul example,
Therefore you must be pleas'd to think this honest;
Did you know what she was?

_Leop._ Not till this instant;
For had I known her, she had been no prisoner.

_Gov._ There, take the Maid, she is at her own dispose now,
And if there be ought else to do your honour
Any poor service in--

_Clod._ I am vowed your servant.

_Arn._ Your Father's here too, that's our only comfort,
And in a Country now, we stand free people,
Where _Clodio_ has no power, be comforted.

_Zen._ I fear some trick yet.

_Arn._ Be not so dejected.

_Gover._ You must not be displeas'd; so farewel Lady.
Come Gentlemen; Captain, you must with me too,
I have a little business.

_Leop._ I attend your Lordship:
Now my way's free, and my hope's Lord again.
[_Exeunt all but_ Hip. _and_ Zab.

_Hip._ D'ye jeer me now ye are going?
I may live yet--to make you howl both.

_Zab._ You might have done; you had power then,
But now the chains are off, the command lost,
And such a story they will make of this
To laugh out lazie time.

_Hip._ No means yet left me?
For now I burst with anger: none to satisfie me?
No comfort? no revenge?

_Zab._ You speak too late;
You might have had all these, your useful servants,
Had you been wise, and suddain: what power, or will
Over her beauty, have you now? by violence
To constrain his love; she is as free as you are,
And no law can impeach her liberty,
And whilst she is so, _Arnoldo_ will despise you.

_Hip._ Either my love or anger must be satisfied,
Or I must dye.

_Zab._ I have a way wou'd do it,
Wou'd do it yet, protect me from the Law.

_Hip._ From any thing; thou knowest what power I have,
What mony, and what friends.

_Zab._ 'Tis a devilish one:
But such must now be us'd: walk in, I'le tell you;
And if you like it, if the Devil can do any thing--

_Hip._ Devil, or what thou wilt, so I be satisfied. [_Ex._

_Enter_ Sulpitia, _and_ Jaques.

_Sulp._ This is the rarest and the lustiest fellow,
And so bestirs himself--

_Jaq._ Give him breath Mistress,
You'l melt him else.

_Sulp._ He does perform such wonders--
The women are mad on him.

_Jaq._ Give him breath I say;
The man is but a man, he must have breath.

_Sulp._ How many had he yesterday?
And they paid bravely too.

_Jaq._ About fourteen,
But still I cry give breath, spare him and have him.

_Sulp._ Five Dames to day; this was a small stage,
He may endure five more.

_Jaq._ Breath, breath I cry still;
Body o' me give breath, the man's a lost man else.
Feed him and give him breath.

_Enter_ 2 Gentlewomen.

_Sulp._ Welcome Gentlewomen,
Y'are very welcome.

_1 Gen._ We hear you have a lusty and well complexion'd fellow
That does rare tricks; my Sister and my self here,
Would trifle out an hour or two, so please you.

_Sulp._ _Jaques_, conduct 'em in.

_Both._ There's for your courtesie. [_Ex._ Jaq. _and_ Gent.

_Sulp._ Good pay still, good round pay, this happy fellow
Will set me up again; he brings in gold
Faster than I have leisure to receive it.
O that his body were not flesh and fading;
But I'le so pap him up--nothing too dear for him;
What a sweet scent he has?--Now what news _Jaques_?

_Jaq._ He cannot last, I pity the poor man,
I suffer for him; two Coaches of young City dames,
And they drive as the Devil were in the wheels,
Are ready now to enter: and behind these
An old dead-palsied Lady in a Litter,
And she makes all the haste she can: the man's lost,
You may gather up his dry bones to make Nine-pins,
But for his flesh.

_Sulp._ These are but easie labours
Yet, for I know he must have rest.

_Ja._ He must--you'll beat him off his legs else presently.

_Sul._ Go in, and bid him please himself, I am pleas'd too:
To morrow's a new day; but if he can
I would have him take pity o' the old Lady.
Alas 'tis charity.

_Jaq._ I'le tell him all this,
And if he be not too fool-hardy.

_Enter_ Zabulon.

_Sulp._ How now?
What news with you?

_Zab._ You must presently
Shew all the art you have, and for my Lady.

_Sulp._ She may command.

_Zab._ You must not dream nor trifle.

_Sulp._ Which way?

_Zab._ A spell you must prepare, a powerful one,
Peruse but these directions, you shall find all;
There is the picture too, be quick, and faithful,
And do it with that strength--when 'tis perform'd,
Pitch your reward at what you please, you have it.

_Sul._ I'le do my best, and suddenly: but hark ye,
Will you never lye at home again?

_Zab._ Excuse me,
I have too much business yet.

_Sulp._ I am right glad on't.

_Zab._ Think on your business, so farewel.

_Sulp._ I'le do it.

_Zab._ Within this hour I'le visit you again
And give you greater lights.

_Sulp._ I shall observe ye;
This brings a brave reward, bravely I'le do it,
And all the hidden art I have, express in't. [_Exeunt at both doors._

_Enter_ Rutilio _with a Night-cap._

_Rut._ Now do I look as if I were Crow-trodden,
Fye, how my hams shrink under me! O me,
I am broken-winded too; is this a life?
Is this the recreation I have aim'd at?
I had a body once, a handsome body,
And wholesome too. Now I appear like a rascal,
That had been hung a year or two in Gibbets.
Fye how I faint! women? keep me from women;
Place me before a Cannon, 'tis a pleasure;
Stretch me upon a Rack, a recreation;
But women? women? O the Devil! women?
_Curtius_ Gulf was never half so dangerous.
Is there no way to find the Trap-door again,
And fall into the Cellar, and be taken?
No lucky fortune to direct me that way?
No Gallies to be got, nor yet no Gallows?
For I fear nothing now, no earthly thing
But these unsatisfied Men-leeches, women.
How devilishly my bones ake! O the old Lady!
I have a kind of waiting-woman lyes cross my back too,
O how she stings! no treason to deliver me?
Now what are you? do you mock me?

_Enter_ 3. _with Night-caps very faintly._

_1_ No Sir, no;
We were your Predecessors in this place.

_2_ And come to see you bear up.

_Rut._ Good Gentlemen;
You seem to have a snuffing in your head Sir,
A parlous snuffing, but this same dampish air--

_2_ A dampish air indeed.

_Rut._ Blow your face tenderly,
Your nose will ne're endure it: mercy o' me,
What are men chang'd to here? is my nose fast yet?
Me thinks it shakes i'th' hilts: pray tell me gentlemen,
How long is't since you flourisht here?

_3_ Not long since.

_Rut._ Move your self easily, I see you are tender,
Nor long endured.

_2_ The labour was so much Sir,
And so few to perform it--

_Rut._ Must I come to this?
And draw my legs after me like a lame Dog?
I cannot run away, I am too feeble:
Will you sue for this place again Gentlemen?

_1_ No truly Sir, the place has been too warm for our complexions.
We have enough on't, rest you merry Sir,
We came but to congratulate your fortune,
You have abundance.

_3_ Bear your fortune soberly,
And so we leave you to the next fair Lady. [_Ex. the_ 3.

_Rut._ Stay but a little, and I'le meet you Gentlemen,
At the next Hospital: there's no living thus,
Nor am I able to endure it longer,
With all the helps and heats that can be given me,
I am at my trot already: they are fair and young
Most of the women that repair unto me,
But they stick on like Burs, shake me like Feathers.

_Enter_ Sulpitia.

More Women yet?
Would I were honestly married
To any thing that had but half a face,
And not a groat to keep her, nor a smock,
That I might be civilly merry when I pleased,
Rather than labouring in these Fulling-mills.

_Sul._ By this the spell begins to work: you are lusty,
I see you bear up bravely yet.

_Rut._ Do you hear Lady,
Do not make a game-bear of me, to play me hourly,
And fling on all your whelps; it would not hold;
Play me with some discretion; to day one course,
And two dayes hence another.

_Sulp._ If you be so angry
Pay back the mony I redeem'd you at
And take your course, I can have men enough:
You have cost me a hundred crowns since you came hither,
In Broths and strength[n]ing Caudles; till you do pay me,
If you will eat and live, you shall endeavour,
I'le chain you to't else.

_Rut._ Make me a Dog-kennel,
I'le keep your house and bark, and feed on bare bones,
And be whipt out o' doors,
Do you mark me Lady? whipt,
I'le eat old shoes.

_Enter_ Duarte.

_Dua._ In this house I am told
There is a stranger, of a goodly person,
And such a one there was; if I could see him,
I yet remember him.

_Sulp._ Your business Sir,
If it be for a woman, ye are couzen'd,
I keep none here. [_Exit._

_Dua._ Certain this is the Gentleman;
The very same.

_Rut._ Death, if I had but mony,
Or any friend to bring me from this bondage,
I would Thresh, set up a Cobler's shop, keep Hogs,
And feed with 'em, sell Tinder-boxes,
And Knights of Ginger-bread, Thatch for three
Half pence a day, and think it Lordly,
From this base Stallion trade: why does he eye me,
Eye me so narrowly?

_Dua._ It seems you are troubled Sir,
I heard you speak of want.

_Rut._ 'Tis better hearing
Far, than relieving Sir.

_Dua._ I do not think so, you know me not.

_Rut._ Not yet that I remember.

_Dua._ You shall, and for your friend: I am beholding to ye,
Greatly beholding Sir; if you remember,
You fought with such a man, they call'd _Duarte_,
A proud distemper'd man: he was my enemy,
My mortal foe, you slew him fairly, nobly.

_Rut._ Speak softly Sir, you do not mean to betray me,
I wisht the Gallows, now th'are coming fairly.

_Dua._ Be confident, for as I live, I love you,
And now you shall perceive it: for that service,
Me, and my purse command: there, take it to ye,
'Tis gold, and no small sum, a thousand Duckets,
Supply your want.

_Rut._ But do you do this faithfully?

_Dua._ If I mean ill, spit in my face and kick me:
In what else I may serve you, Sir--

_Rut._ I thank you,
This is as strange to me as Knights adventures.
I have a project, 'tis an honest one,
And now I'le tempt my fortune.

_Dua._ Trust me with it.

_Rut._ You are so good and honest I must trust ye,
'Tis but to carry a letter to a Lady
That sav'd my life once.

_Dua._ That will be most thankful,
I will do't with all care.

_Rut._ Where are you, white-broth?
Now lusty blood,
Come in, and tell your mony:
'Tis ready here, no threats, nor no orations,
Nor prayers now.

_Sulp._ You do not mean to leave me.

_Rut._ I'le live in Hell sooner than here, and cooler.
Come quickly come, dispatch, this air's unwho[l]som:
Quickly good Lady, quickly to't.

_Sulp._ Well, since it must be,
The next I'le fetter faster sure, and closer.

_Rut._ And pick his bones, as y'have done mine, pox take ye.

_Dua._ At my lodging for a while, you shall be quartered,
And there take Physick for your health.

_Rut._ I thank ye,
I have found my angel now too, if I can keep him.
[_Exeunt omnes._

_Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._

_Enter Rutilio and Duarte._

_Rut. You like the Letter?

_Dua._ Yes, but I must tell you
You tempt a desperate hazard, to sollicite
The mother, (and the grieved one too, 'tis rumor'd)
Of him you slew so lately.

_Rut._ I have told you
Some proofs of her affection, and I know not
A nearer way to make her satisfaction
For a lost Son, than speedily to help her
To a good Husband; one that will beget
Both Sons and Daughters, if she be not barren.
I have had a breathing now, and have recovered
What I lost in my late service, 'twas a hot one:
It fired and fired me; but all thanks to you Sir,
You have both freed and cool'd me.

_Dua._ What is done Sir,
I thought well done, and was in that rewarded,
And therefore spare your thanks.

_Rut._ I'le no more Whoring:
This fencing 'twixt a pair of sheets, more wears one
Than all the exercise in the world besides.
To be drunk with good Canary, a meer Julip
Or like gourd-water to't; twenty Surfeits
Come short of one nights work there. If I get this Lady
As ten to one I shall, I was ne're denied yet,
I will live wondrous honestly; walk before her
Gravely and demurely
And then instruct my family; you are sad,
What do you muse on Sir?

_Dua._ Truth I was thinking
What course to take for the delivery of your letter,
And now I have it: but faith did this Lady
(For do not gull your self) for certain know,
You kill'd her Son?

_Rut._ Give me a Book I'le swear't;
Denyed me to the Officers, that pursued me,
Brought me her self to th' door, then gave me gold
To bear my charges, and shall I make doubt then
But that she lov'd me? I am confident
Time having ta'ne her grief off, that I shall be
Most welcome to her: for then to have wooed her
Had been unseasonable.

_Dua._ Well Sir, there's more mony,
To ma[ke] you handsome; I'le about your business:
You know where you must stay?

_Rut._ There you shall find me:
Would I could meet my Brother now, to know,
Whether the Jew, his Genius, or my Christian,
Has prov'd the better friend. [_Exit._

_Dua._ O who would trust
Deceiving woman! or believe that one
The best, and most Canoniz'd ever was
More than a seeming goodness? I could rail now
Against the sex, and curse it; but the theam
And way's too common: yet that _Guiomar_
My Mother; (nor let that forbid her to be
The wonder of our nation) she that was
Mark'd out the great example, for all Matrons
Both Wife and Widow; she that in my breeding
Exprest the utmost of a Mothers care,
And tenderness to a Son; she that yet feigns
Such sorrow for me; good God, that this mother,
After all this, should give up to a stranger,
The wreak she ow'd her Son; I fear her honour.
That he was sav'd, much joyes me, and grieve only
That she was his preserver. I'le try further,
And by this Engine, find whether the tears,
Of which she is so prodigal, are for me,
Or us'd to cloak her base hypocrisie. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Hippolyta _and_ Sulpitia.

_Hip._ Are you assur'd the charm prevails?

_Sulp._ Do I live?
Or do you speak to me? Now this very instant
Health takes its last leave of her; meager paleness
Like winter, nips the Roses and the Lilies,
The Spring that youth, and love adorn'd her face with.
To force affection, is beyond our art,
For I have prov'd all means that hell has taught me,
Or the malice of a woman, which exceeds it,
To change _Arnoldo's_ love, but to no purpose:
But for your bond-woman--

_Hip._ Let her pine and dye;
She remov'd, which like a brighter Sun,
Obscures my beams, I may shine out again,
And as I have been, be admir'd and sought to:
How long has she to live?

_Sulp._ Lady, before
The Sun twice rise and set, be confident,
She is but dead; I know my Charm hath found her.
Nor can the Governours Guard; her lovers tears;
Her Fathers sorrow, or his power that freed her,
Defend her from it.

_Enter_ Zabulon.

_Zab._ All things have succeeded,
As you could wish; I saw her brought sick home;
The image of pale death, stampt on her fore-head.
Let me adore this second Hecate,
This great Commandress, of the fatal Sisters,
That as she pleases, can cut short, or lengthen
The thread of life.

_Hip._ Where was she when the inchantment
First seis'd upon her?

_Zab._ Taking the fresh air,
In the company of the Governour, and Count _Clodio_,
_Arnoldo_ too, was present with her Father,
When, in a moment (so the servants told me)
As she was giving thanks to the Governour,
And _Clodio_, for her unexpected freedom,
As if she had been blasted, she sunk down,
To their amazement.

_Hip._ 'Tis thy master-piece
Which I will so reward, that thou shalt fix here,
And with the hazard of thy life, no more
Make tryal of thy powerful Art; which known
Our Laws call death: off with this Magical Robe,
And be thy self.

_Enter_ Governour, Clodio, _and_ Charino.

_Sulp._ Stand close, you shall hear more.

_Man._ You must have patience; all rage is vain now,
And piety forbids, that we should question
What is decreed above, or ask a reason
Why heaven determines this or that way of us.

_Clod._ Heaven has no hand in't; 'tis a work of hell.
Her life hath been so innocent, all her actions
So free from the suspicion of crime,
As rather she deserves a Saints place here,
Than to endure, what now her sweetness suffers.

_Char._ Not for her fault, but mine Sir, _Zenocia_ suffers:
The sin I made, when I sought to rase down
_Arnoldo's_ love, built on a Rock of truth,
Now to the height is punish'd. I profess,
Had he no birth, nor parts, the present sorrow
He now expresses for her, does deserve her
Above all Kings, though such had been his rivals.

_Clod._ All ancient stories, of the love of Husbands
To vertuous Wives, be now no more remembred.

_Char._ The tales of _Turtles_, ever be forgotten,
Or, for his sake believ'd.

_Man._ I have heard, there has been
Between some married pairs, such sympathy,
That th' Husband has felt really the throws
His Wife then teeming suffers, this true grief
Confirms, 'tis not impossible.

_Clod._ We shall find
Fit time for this hereafter; let's use now
All possible means to help her.

_Man._ Care, nor cost,
Nor what Physicians can do, shall be wanting;
Make use of any means or men.

_Char._ You are noble.
[_Exeunt_ Man. Clod, _and_ Char.

_Sulp._ Ten Colledges of Doctors shall not save her.
Her fate is in your hand.

_Hip._ Can I restore her?

_Sulp._ If you command my Art.

_Hip._ I'le dye my self first.
And yet I'le go visit her, and see
This miracle of sorrow in _Arnoldo_:
And 'twere for me, I should change places with her,
And dye most happy, such a lovers tears
Were a rich monument, but too good for her,
Whose misery I glory in: come _Sulpitia_,
You shall along with me, good _Zabulon_
Be not far off.

_Zab._ I will attend you Madam. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Duarte, _and a_ Servant.

_Ser._ I have serv'd you from my youth, and ever
You have found me faithful: that you live's a treasure
I'le lock up here; nor shall it be let forth,
But when you give me warrant.

_Dua._ I rely
Upon thy faith; nay, no more protestations,
Too many of them will call that in question,
Which now I doubt not: she is there?

_Ser._ Alone too,
But take it on my life, your entertainment,
Appearing as you are, will be but course,
For the displeasure I shall undergo
I am prepar'd.

_Dua._ Leave me, I'le stand the hazard. [_Exit_ Servant.
The silence that's observ'd, her close retirements,
No visitants admitted, not the day;
These sable colours, all signs of true sorrow,
Or hers is deeply counterfeit. I'le look nearer,
Manners give leave--she sits upon the ground;
By heaven she weeps; my picture in her hand too;
She kisses it and weeps again.

_Enter_ Guiomar.

_Gui._ Who's there?

_Dua._ There is no starting back now Madam.

_Gui._ Ha, another murderer! I'le not protect thee,
Though I have no more Sons.

_Dua._ Your pardon Lady,
There's no such foul fact taints me.

_Gui._ What makes thou here then?
Where are my servants, do none but my sorrows
Attend upon me? speak, what brought thee hither?

_Dua._ A will to give you comfort.

_Gui._ Thou art but a man.
And 'tis beyond a humane reach to do it,
If thou could raise the dead out of their graves,
Bid time run back, make me now what I was,
A happy Mother; gladly I would hear thee,
But that's impossible.

_Dua._ Please you but read this;
You shall know better there, why I am sent,
Than if I should deliver it.

_Gui._ From whom comes it?

_Dua._ That will instruct you. I suspect this stranger,
Yet she spake something that holds such alliance
With his reports; I know not what to think on't;
What a frown was there? she looks me through, & through,
Now reads again, now pauses, and now smiles;
And yet there's more of anger in't than mirth,
These are strange changes; oh I understand it,
She's full of serious thoughts.

_Gui._ You are just, you Heavens,
And never do forget to hear their prayers,
That truly pay their vows, the defer'd vengeance,
For you, and my words sake so long defer'd,
Under which as a mountain my heart groans yet
When 'twas despair'd of, now is offer'd to me;
And if I lose it, I am both wayes guilty.
The womans mask, dissimulation help me.
Come hither friend, I am sure you know the Gentleman,
That sent these charms.

_Dua._ Charms Lady?

_Gui._ These charms;
I well may call them so, they've won upon me,
More than ere letter did; thou art his friend,
(The confidence he has in thee, confirms it)
And therefore I'le be open breasted to thee;
To hear of him, though yet I never saw him,
Was most desir'd of all men; let me blush,
And then I'le say I love him.

_Dua._ All men see,
In this a womans vertue.

_Gui._ I expected
For the courtesie I did, long since to have seen him,
And though I then forbad it, you men know,
Between our hearts and tongues there's a large distance;
But I'le excuse him, may be hitherto
He has forborn it, in respect my Son
Fell by his hand.

_Dua._ And reason Lady.

_Gui._ No, he did me a pleasure in't, a riotous fellow,
And with that insolent, not worth the owning;
I have indeed kept a long solemn sorrow,
For my friends sake partly; but especially
For his long absence.

_Dua._ O the Devil.

_Guio._ Therefore
Bid him be speedy; a Priest shall be ready
To tye the holy knot; this kiss I send him,
Deliver that and bring him.

_Dua._ I am dumb:
A good cause I have now, and a good sword,
And something I shall do, I wait upon you. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Manuel, Charino, Arnoldo, Zenocia, _born in a chair_. 2 Doctors,

_Doct._ Give her more air, she dyes else.

_Arn._ O thou dread power,
That mad'st this all, and of thy workmanship
This virgin wife, the Master piece, look down on her;
Let her minds virtues, cloth'd in this fair garment,
That worthily deserves a better name
Than flesh and bloud, now sue, and prevail for her.
Or if those are denyed, let innocence,
To which all passages in Heaven stand open,
Appear in her white robe, before thy throne;
And mediate for her: or if this age of sin
Be worthy of a miracle, the Sun
In his diurnal progress never saw
So sweet a subject to imploy it on.

_Man._ Wonders are ceas'd Sir, we must work by means.

_Arno._ 'Tis true, and such reverend Physicians are;
To you thus low I fall then; so may you ever
Be stil'd the hands of Heaven, natures restorers;
Get wealth and honours; and by your success,
In all your undertakings, propagate
Your great opinion in the world, as now
You use your saving art; for know good Gentlemen,
Besides the fame, and all that I possess,
For a reward, posterity shall stand
Indebted to you, for (as Heaven forbid it)
Should my _Zenocia_ dye, robbing this age
Of all that's good or gracefull, times succeeding,
The story of her pure life not yet perfect,
Will suffer in the want of her example.

_Doct._ Were all the world to perish with her, we
Can do no more, than what art and experience
Give us assurance of, we have us'd all means
To find the cause of her disease, yet cannot;
How should we then, promise the cure?

_Arn._ Away,
I did bely you, when I charg'd you with
The power of doing, ye are meer names only,
And even your best perfection, accidental;
What ever malady thou art, or Spirit,
As some hold all diseases that afflict us,
As love already makes me sensible
Of half her sufferings, ease her of her part,
And let me stand the butt of thy fell malice,
And I will swear th'art mercifull.

_Doct._ Your hand Lady;
What a strange heat is here! bring some warm water.

_Arn._ She shall use nothing that is yours; my sorrow
Provides her of a better bath, my tears
Shall do that office.

_Zeno._ O my best _Arnoldo_!
The truest of all lovers! I would live
Were heaven so pleas'd, but to reward your sorrow
With my true service; but since that's denied me,
May you live long and happy: do not suffer
(By your affection to me I conjure you)
My sickness to infect you; though much love
Makes you too subject to it.

_Arn._ In this only

_Zenocia_ wrongs her servant; can the body
Subsist, the Soul departed? 'tis as easie
As I to live without you; I am your husband,
And long have been so, though our adverse fortune,
Bandying us from one hazard to another,
Would never grant me so much happiness,
As to pay a husbands debt; despite of fortune,
In death I'le follow you, and guard mine own;
And there enjoy what here my fate forbids me.

_Clod._ So true a sorrow, and so feelingly
Exprest, I never read of.

_Man._ I am struck
With wonder to behold it, as with pity.

_Char._ If you that are a stranger, suffer for them,
Being tied no further than humanity
Leads you to soft compassion; think great Sir,
What of necessity I must endure,
That am a Father?

Hippolyta, Zabulon, _and_ Sulpitia _at the door._

_Zab._ Wait me there, I hold it
Unfit to have you seen; as I find cause,
You shall proceed.

_Man._ You are welcom Lady.

_Hip._ Sir, I come to do a charitable office,
How does the patient?

_Clod._ You may enquire
Of more than one; for two are sick, and deadly,
He languishes in her, her health's despair'd of,
And in hers, his.

_Hip._ 'Tis a strange spectacle,
With what a patience they sit unmov'd!
Are they not dead already?

_Doct._ By her pulse,
She cannot last a day.

_Arn._ Oh by that summons,
I know my time too!

_Hip._ Look to the man.

_Clod._ Apply
Your Art, to save the Lady, preserve her,
A town is your reward.

_Hip. I'le treble it,
In ready gold, if you restore _Arnoldo_;
For in his death I dye too.

_Clod._ Without her
I am no more.

_Arn._ Are you there Madam? now
You may feast on my miseries; my coldness
In answering your affections, or hardness,
Give it what name you please, you are reveng'd of,
For now you may perceive, our thred of life
Was spun together, and the poor _Arnoldo_
Made only to enjoy the best _Zenocia_,
And not to serve the use of any other;
And in that she may equal; my Lord _Clodio_
Had long since else enjoyed her, nor could I
Have been so blind, as not to see your great
And many excellencies far, far beyond
Or my deservings, or my hopes; we are now
Going our latest journey, and together,
Our only comfort we desire, pray give it,
Your charity to our ashes, such we must be,
And not to curse our memories.

_Hip._ I am much mov'd.

_Clod._ I am wholly overcome, all love to women
Farewell for ever; ere you dye, your pardon;
And yours Sir; had she many years to live,
Perhaps I might look on her, as a Brother,
But as a lover never; and since all
Your sad misfortunes had original
From the barbarous Custom practis'd in my Country,
Heaven witness, for your sake I here release it;
So to your memory, chaste Wives and Virgins
Shall ever pay their vowes. I give her to you;
And wish, she were so now, as when my lust
Forc'd you to quit the Country.

_Hip._ It is in vain
To strive with destiny, here my dotage ends,
Look up _Zenocia_, health in me speaks to you;
She gives him to you, that by divers ways,
So long has kept him from you: and repent not,
That you were once my servant, for which health
In recompence of what I made you suffer,
The hundred thousand Crowns, the City owes me,
Shall be your dower.

_Man._ 'Tis a magnificent gift,
Had it been timely given.

_Hip._ It is believe it, _Sulpitia_.

_Enter a_ Servant, _and_ Sulpitia.

_Sulp._ Madam.

_Hip._ Quick, undoe the charm;
Ask not a reason why; let it suffice,
It is my will.

_Sulp._ Which I obey and gladly. [_Exit._

_Man._ Is to be married, sayest thou?

_Ser._ So she sayes Sir,
And does desire your presence. [_They are born off in chairs._

_Man._ And tell her I'le come.

_Hip._ Pray carry them to their rest; for though already,
They do appear as dead, let my life pay for't,
If they recover not.

_Man._ What you have warranted,
Assure your self, will be expected from you;
Look to them carefully; and till the tryal,--

_Hip._ Which shall not be above four hours.

_Man._ Let me
Intreat your companies: there is something
Of weight invites me hence.

_All._ We'll wait upon you. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Guiomar, _and_ Servants.

_Guio._ You understand what my directions are,
And what they guide you to; the faithfull promise
You have made me all.

_All._ We do and will perform it.

_Guio._ The Governour will not fail to be here presently;
Retire a while, till you shall find occasion,
And bring me word, when they arrive.

_All._ Wee shall Madam.

_Guio._ Only stay you to entertain.

_1 Ser._ I am ready.

_Guio._ I wonder at the bold, and practis'd malice,
Men ever have o' foot against our honours,
That nothing we can do, never so vertuous,
No shape put on so pious, no not think
What a good is, be that good ne're so noble,
Never so laden with admir'd example,
But still we end in lust; our aims, our actions,
Nay, even our charities, with lust are branded;
Why should this stranger else, this wretched stranger,
Whose life I sav'd at what dear price sticks here yet,
Why should he hope? he was not here an hour,
And certainly in that time, I may swear it
I gave him no loose look, I had no reason;
Unless my tears were flames, my curses courtships;
The killing of my Son, a kindness to me.
Why should he send to me, or with what safety
(Examining the ruine he had wrought me)
Though at that time, my pious pity found him,
And my word fixt; I am troubled, strongly troubled.

_Enter a_ Servant.

_Ser._ The Gentlemen are come.

_Guio._ Then bid 'em welcome--I must retire. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Rutilio, _and_ Duarte.

_Ser._ You are welcom Gentlemen.

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