Chapter 55

_Enter_ MORGAN, LACY, DUNSTAN, FORREST, HONOREA, MARIAN.

MOR. Thou holy man, to whom the higher powers Have given the gift of cures beyond conceit, Welcome thou art unto Earl Morgan's house: The house of sorrow yet, unless by thee Our joys may spring anew; which if they do, Reward and praise shall both attend on thee.

LACY. And we will ever reverence thy name, Making the chronicles to speak thy praise: So Honorea may but have her speech.

DUN. My lords, you know the hallow'd gift of tongues Comes from the selfsame power that gives us breath: He binds and looseth them at his dispose; And in his name will Dunstan undertake To work this cure upon fair Honorea. Hang there, my harp, my solitary muse, Companion of my contemplation. [_He hangs his harp on the wall_. And, lady, kneel with me upon the earth, That both our prayers may ascend to heaven.

[_They kneel down. Then enters_ CLINTON, _with_ BELPHEGOR, _terming himself_ CASTILIANO, _and_ AKERCOCK, _as_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW.

CLIN. So shall you do the lady a good turn, And bind both him and me to you for ever. [_Aside_.]

BEL. I have determin'd what I mean to do. [_Aside_.]

CLIN. Here be the earls, and with them is the friar. [_Aside_.]

BEL. What, is he praying? [_Aside_.]

CLIN. So methinks he is; But I'll disturb him. [_Aside_.] By your leave, my lords, Here is a stranger from beyond the seas Will undertake to cure your lordship's daughter.

MOR. The holy abbot is about the cure.

BEL. Yea, but, my lord, he'll never finish it.

MOR. How canst thou tell? What countryman art thou?

BEL. I am by birth, my lord, a Spaniard born, And by descent came of a noble house; Though, for the love I bare[437] to secret arts, I never car'd to seek for vain estate, Yet by my skill I have increas'd my wealth. My name Castiliano, and my birth No baser than the best blood of Castile. Hearing your daughter's strange infirmity, Join'd with such matchless beauty and rare virtue, I cross'd the seas on purpose for her good.

DUN. Fond man, presuming on thy weaker skill, That think'st by art to overrule the heavens! Thou know'st not what it is thou undertak'st. No, no, my lord, your daughter must be cur'd By fasting, prayer, and religious works; Myself for her will sing a solemn mass, And give her three sips of the holy chalice; And turn my beads with aves and with creeds: And thus, my lord, your daughter must be help'd.

CAS. 'Zounds, what a prating keeps the bald-pate friar! My lord, my lord, here's church-work for an age? Tush! I will cure her in a minute's space, That she shall speak as plain as you or I.

[DUNSTAN' _harp sounds on the wall_.

FOR. Hark, hark, my lord! the holy abbot's harp Sounds by itself so hanging on the wall!

DUN. Unhallowed man, that scorn'st the sacred rede,[438] Hark how the testimony of my truth Sounds heavenly music with an angel's hand, To testify Dunstan's integrity, And prove thy active boast of no effect.

CAS. Tush, sir, that music was to welcome me! The harp hath got another master now; I warrant you, 'twill never tune you more.

DUN. Who should be master of my harp but I?

CAS. Try, then, what service it will do for you.

[_He tries to play, but cannot_.

DUN. Thou art some sorcerer or necromancer, Who by thy spells dost hold these holy strings.

CAS. Cannot your holiness unbind the bonds? Then, I perceive, my skill is most of force. You see, my lord, the abbot is but weak; I am the man must do your daughter good.

MOR. What wilt thou ask for to work thy cure?

CAS. That without which I will not do the cure: Herself to be my wife, for which intent I came from Spain. Then, if she shall be mine, Say so, or keep her else for ever dumb.

MOR. The Earl of Kent, mine honourable friend, Hath to my daughter been a suitor long, And much it would displease both her and him To be prevented of their wished love. Ask what thou wilt beside, and I will grant it.

CAS. Alas, my lord! what should the crazy earl Do with so young a virgin as your daughter? I dare stand to her choice 'twixt him and me.

LACY. And I will pawn mine earldom with my love, And lose them both, if I lose Honorea.

CAS. A match, my lords! We'll stand unto the choice.

MOR. I am contented, if the earl be pleased.

LACY. I were not worthy of her, did I doubt.

CAS. Then there it goes. Fetch me a bowl of wine: This is the match, my lord, before I work-- If she refuse the earl, she must be mine.

MOR. It is.

[_One brings him a cup of wine: he strains the juice of the herb into it_.

CAS. Now shall your lordships see a Spaniard's skill, Who from the plains of new America[439] Can find out sacred simples of esteem To bind and unbind nature's strongest powers. This herb, which mortal men have seldom found, Can I with ease procure me, when I list, And by this juice shall Honorea speak. Here, lady, drink the freedom of thy heart, And may it teach thee long to call me love! [_She drinks_. Now, lovely Honorea, thou art free, Let thy celestial voice make choice of me.

HON. Base alien! mercenary fugitive! Presumptuous Spaniard! that with shameless pride Dar'st ask an English lady for thy wife, I scorn my slave should honour thee so much: And, for myself, I like myself the worse, That thou dar'st hope the gaining of my love. Go, get thee gone, the shame of my esteem, And seek some drudge that may be like thyself! But as for you, good Earl of Kent, Methinks your lordship, being of these years, Should be past dreaming of a second wife. Fie, fie, my lord! 'tis lust in doting age: I will not patronise so foul a sin. An old man dote on youth? 'tis monstrous. Go home, go home, and rest your weary head! 'Twere pity such a brow should learn to bud. And lastly unto you, my lord and father, Your love to me is too much overseen, That in your care and counsel should devise To tie your daughter's choice to two such grooms. You may elect for me, but I'll dispose, And fit myself far better than both those; And so I will conclude; you[r], as you please. [_Exit_ HONOREA _in a chafe_.

AKER. Call you this making of a woman speak? I think they all wish she were dumb again.

CAS. How now, my lord? what, are you in a muse?

LACY. I would to God her tongue were tied again.

CAS. Ay, marry, sir, but that's another thing, The devil cannot tie a woman's tongue:[440] I would the friar could do that with his beads. But 'tis no matter: you, my lord, have promis'd, If she refuse the earl, she should be mine.

MOR. Win her, and wear her, man, with all my heart!

CAS. O, I'll haunt her till I make her stoop. Come, come, my lord, this was to try her voice; Let's in and court her; one of us shall speed.

AKER. Happy man[441] be his dole that misseth her, say I.

DUN. My weaker senses cannot apprehend The means this stranger us'd to make her speak: There is some secret mystery therein, Conceal'd from Dunstan, which the heavens reveal, That I may scourge this bold, blaspheming man, Who holds religious works of little worth!

[_Exeunt; manent_ CLINTON _and_ FORREST.

FOR. Now, Captain Clinton, what think you of me?

CLIN. Methinks as yet the jest holds pretty well. The one hath taught her to deny himself: The other woo'd so long, he cannot speed.

FOR. This news will please young Musgrave.

CLIN. Marry will it, And I will hasten to acquaint him with them: Come, let's away.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ PARSON SHORTHOSE _and_ GRIM _the Collier_.

GRIM. No, Master Parson, grief hath made my heart and me a pair of balance, as heavy as lead. Every night I dream I am a town top, and that I am whipped up and down with the scourge-stick of love and the metal of affection; and when I wake,[442] I find myself stark naked, and as cold as a stone. Now judge how I am tumbled and tossed; poor Grim the collier hath wished himself burnt up amongst his coals.

SHO. O Grim! be wise, dream not of love, Thy sorrows cannot fancy move: If Jug love thee, love her again; If not, thy kindness then refrain.

GRIM. I am not skilled in your rhyming. Master Parson; but that which is bred in the flesh will never come out of the bone. I have seen as much as another man; my travel should teach me. There's never a day in the week but I carry coals from Croydon to London; and now, when I rise in the morning to harness my horses, and load my cart, methinks I have a tailor sewing stitches in my heart: when I am driving my cart, my heart that wanders one way, my eyes they leer another, my feet they lead me, I know not whither, but now and then into a slough over head and ears; so that poor Grim, that before was over shoes in love, is now over head and ears in dirt and mire.

SHO. Well, Grim, my counsel shall suffice To help thee; but in any wise Be rul'd by me, and thou shalt see, As thou lov'st her, she shall love thee.

GRIM. A lard![443] but do you think that will be so? I should laugh till I tickle to see that day, and forswear sleep all the next night after. O Master Parson, I am so haltered in affection, that I may tell you in secret, [since] here's nobody else hears me, I take no care how I fill my sacks. Every time I come to London, my coals are found faulty; I have been five times pilloried, my coals given to the poor, and my sacks burnt before my face. It were a shame to speak this, but truth will come to light. O Joan! thou hast thrown the coal-dust of thy love into my eyes, and stricken me quite blind.

SHO. Now, afore God, the collier chooseth well; For beauty Jug doth bear away the bell, And I love her: then, collier, thou must miss, For Parson Shorthose vows, Jug shall be his. [_Aside_.] But hear'st thou, Grim, I have that in my head, To plot that how thou shalt the maiden wed.

GRIM. But are you sure you have that in your head? O, for a hammer to knock that out! one blow at your pate would lay all open to me, and make me as wise as you.

SHO. Think'st thou I do so often look For nothing on my learned book, As that I cannot work the feat? I warrant I'll the miller cheat, And make Jug thine, in spite of him. Will this content thee, neighbour Grim?

GRIM. Content me! ay, and so highly, that if you do this feat for me, you hire me to you as one hireth an ox or an ass: to use, to ride, to spur, or anything; yours to demand, miserable Grim! Joan's handmaid! for so I have called myself ever since last May-day, when she gave me her hand to kiss.

SHO. Well, let's away; and in all haste About it, ere the day be pass'd; And ever after, if thou hast her, Acknowledge me to be thy master.

GRIM. I wool, sir: come, let's away, the best drink in Croydon's yours; I have it for you, even a dozen of jugs, to Jug's health.

[_Exeunt both_.

_Enter_ EARL MORGAN, EARL LACY, MARIAN.

MOR. My Lord of Kent, the latter motion Doth bind me to you in a higher degree Than all those many favours gone before: And now the issue of my help relies Only on Mariana's gentleness, Who, if she will, in such a common good, Put to her helping-hand, the match is made.

LACY. You need not make a doubt of Marian, Whose love unto her lady were enough, Besides her cousin's and her own consent, To move her to a greater thing than this.

MAR. My lords, if aught there be in Marian, That may or pleasure you or profit her, Ye shall not need to doubt of my consent.

MOR. Gramercy, Marian; and indeed the thing Is in itself a matter of no moment, If it be weigh'd aright, and therefore this: Thou know'st the bargain 'twixt me and the doctor, Concerning marriage with my only daughter, Whom I determined that my Lord of Kent Should have espoused: but I see her mind Is only set upon thy cousin Musgrave, And in her marriage to use constraint Were bootless; therefore thus we have devised. Lord Lacy is content to lose his part, And to resign his title to young Musgrave; But now the doctor will not yield his right. Thus we determine to beguile his hopes: Thou shalt this night be brought unto his bed Instead of her, and he shall marry thee: Musgrave shall have my daughter, she her will; And so shall all things sort[444] to our content.

LACY. And this thou shalt be sure of, Marian, The doctor's wealth will keep thee royally: Besides, thou shalt be ever near thy friends, That will not see thee wrong'd by any man. Say then, wilt thou resolve to marry him?

MAR. My lords, you know I am but young: The doctor's fit for one of riper years: Yet, in regard of Honorea's good, My cousin's profit, and all your contents, I yield myself to be the doctor's wife.

MOR. 'Tis kindly spoken, gentle Marian.

_Enter_ CASTILIANO.

But here the doctor comes.

LACY. Then I'll away, Lest he suspect aught by my being here. [_Exit_.

MOR. Do, and let me alone to close with him.

CAS. May he ne'er speak that makes a woman speak! She talks now sure for all the time that's pass'd: Her tongue is like a scarecrow in a tree, That clatters still with every puff of wind. I have so haunted her from place to place: About the hall, from thence into the parlour, Up to the chamber, down into the garden, And still she rails, and chafes, and scolds, As if it were the sessions-day in hell. Yet will I haunt her with an open mouth, And never leave her till I force her love me.

MOR. Now, master doctor; what, a match or no?

CAS. A match, quoth you? I think the devil himself Cannot match her; for, if he could, I should. [_Aside_.]

MOR. Well, be content: 'tis I must work the mean To make her yield, whether she will or no. My Lord of Kent is gone hence in a chafe, And now I purpose that she shall be yours, Yet to herself unknown; for she shall think That Musgrave is the man, but it shall be you: Seem you still discontented, and no more. Go, Mariana, call thy mistress hither. Now, when she comes, dissemble what you know, And go away, as if you car'd not for her; So will she the sooner be brought into it.

[_Exit_ MARIAN.

CAS. My lord, I thank you for your honest care, And, as I may, will study to requite it.

_Enter_ HONOREA _and_ MARIAN.

But here your daughter comes. No, no, my lord, 'Tis not her[445] favour I regard, nor her; Your promise 'tis I challenge, which I'll have: It was my bargain, no man else should have her. Not that I love her, but I'll not be wrong'd By any one, my lord; and so I leave you. [_Exit_ CASTILIANO.

MOR. He's passing cunning to deceive himself: But all the better for the after-sport.

HON. Sir, did you send for me?

MOR. Honorea, for thee; And this it is. Howe'er unworthily I have bestowed my love so long upon thee, That wilt so manifestly contradict me, Yet, that thou may'st perceive how I esteem thee, I make thyself the guardian of thy love, That thine own fancy may make choice for thee. I have persuaded with my Lord of Kent To leave to love thee: now the peevish doctor Swears that his int'rest he will ne'er resign; Therefore we must by policy deceive him. He shall suppose he lieth this night with thee, But Mariana shall supply thy room; And thou with Musgrave in another chamber Shall secretly be lodg'd. When this is done, 'Twill be too late to call that back again: So shalt thou have thy mind, and he a wife.

HON. But wilt thou, Mariana, yield to this?

MAR. For your sake, lady, I will undertake it.

HON. Gramercy, Marian, and my noble father; Now I acknowledge that indeed you love me.

MOR. Well, no more words, but be you both prepar'd: The night draweth on, and I have sent in secret For Musgrave, that he may be brought unseen, To hide suspicion from their jealous eyes.

HON. I warrant you. Come, Marian, let us go.

[_Exeunt_ HONOREA _and_ MARIAN.

MOR. And then my Lord of Kent shall be my son. Should I go wed my daughter to a boy? No, no; young girls must have their will restrain'd; For if the rule be theirs, all runs to nought. [_Exit_.

_Enter_ CLACK _the Miller, with_ JOAN.

CLACK. Be not Jug, as a man would say, finer than fivepence, or more proud than a peacock; that is, to seem to scorn to call in at Clack's mill as you pass over the bridge. There be as good wenches as you be glad to pay me toll.

JOAN. Like enough, Clack; I had as live[446] they as I, and a great deal rather too. You, that take toll of so many maids, shall never toll me after you. O God! what a dangerous thing it is but to peep once into love! I was never so haunted with my harvest-work as I am with love's passions.

CLACK. Ay, but Joan, bear old proverbs in your memory; soft and fair; now, sir, if you make too much haste to fall foul, ay, and that upon a foul one too, there fades the flower of all Croydon. Tell me but this: is not Clack the miller as good a name as Grim the collier?

JOAN. Alas! I know no difference in names To make a maid or choose or to refuse.

CLACK. You were best to say, no, nor in men neither. Well, I'll be sworn I have; but I have no reason to tell you so much, that care so little for me [_aside_]: yet hark. [CLACK _speaketh in her ear_.

_Enter_ GRIM _and_ PARSON SHORTHOSE.

GRIM. O Master Parson, there he stands like a scarecrow, to drive me away from her that sticks as close to my heart as my shirt to my back, or my hose to my heel. O Master Parson Shorthose, Grim is but a man as another man is: colliers have but lives, as other men have. All is gone if she go from me: Grim is nobody without her. My heart is in my mouth; my mouth is in my hand; my hand threatens vengeance against the miller, as it were a beadle with a whip in his hand, triumphing o'er a beggar's back!

SHO. Be silent, Grim; stand close, and see; So shall we know how all things be.

GRIM. In wisdom I am appeased; but in anger I broil, as it were a rasher upon the coals.

JOAN. I'll not despise the trades ye either have; Yet Grim the collier may, if he be wise, Live even as merry as the day is long; For, in my judgment, in his mean estate Consists as much content as in more wealth.

GRIM. O Master Parson, write down this sweet saying of her in Grim's commendations. She hath made my heart leap like a hobby-horse! O Joan, this speech of thine will I carry with me even to my grave.

SHO. Be silent, then.

CLACK. Well, then, I perceive you mean to lead your life in a coalpit, like one of the devil's drudges, and have your face look like the outward side of an old iron pot or a blacking-box.

GRIM. He calleth my trade into question, I cannot forbear him.

SHO. Nay, then you spoil all: neighbour Grim, I warrant you, she will answer him.

JOAN. What I intend, I am not bound to show To thee, nor any other but my mother, To whom in duty I submit myself: Yet this I tell thee, though my birth be mean, My honest virtuous life shall help to mend it; And if I marry any in all this life, He shall say boldly he hath an honest wife.

GRIM. O, that it were my fortune to light upon her, on condition my horses were dead, and my cart broken, and I bound to carry coals, as long as I live, from Croydon to London on my bare shoulders! Master Parson, the flesh is frail, he shall tempt her no longer. She is but weak, and he is the stronger. I'll upon him. Miller, thou art my neighbour, and therein charity holds my hands; but methinks you, having a water-gap of your own, you may do as other millers do, grind your grist at home, knock your cogs into your own mill; you shall not cog with her.

She doth descry thee; And I defy thee To a mortal fight; And so, miller, good night. And now, sweet Joan, Be it openly known Thou art my own.

CLACK. Well, Grim, since thou art so collier-like choleric--

GRIM. Miller, I will not be mealy-mouth'd.

CLACK. I'll give thee the fewer words now, because the next time we meet, I'll pay thee all in dry blows. Carry coals[447] at a collier's hands! if I do, let my mill be drowned up in water, and I hanged in the roof.

JOAN. And if thou lov'st me, Grim, forbear him now.

GRIM. If I love thee! dost thou doubt of that? nay, rip me up, and look into my heart, and thou shalt see thy own face pictured there as plainly as in the proudest looking-glass in all Croydon. If I love thee! then, tears, gush out, and show my love.

CLACK. What, Master Parson, are you there? You remember you promised to win Joan for my own wearing?

SHO. I warrant thee, Clack, but now begone; Leave me to work that here alone.

CLACK. Well, farewell, Master Shorthose; be true when you are trusted. [_Exit_ CLACK.

SHO. She shall be neither his nor thine, For I intend to make her mine.

GRIM. If I love thee, Joan! Those very words are a purgation to me. You shall see desperation in my face, and death marching in my very countenance. If I love!

SHO. What, Grim, hath grief drown'd thee at last? Are all thy joys overcast? Is Joan in place, and thou so sad! Her presence, man, should make thee glad.

JOAN. Good Master Parson, 'twas no fault of mine; He takes occasion, where there none was given. I will not blab unto the world, my love I owe to him, and shall do whilst I live. [_Aside_]

GRIM. Well, Joan, without all ifs or ands, e-persese, a-persese, or tittle-tattles in the world, I do love thee; and so much that, in thy absence I cry, when I see thee, and rejoice with my very heart, when I cannot behold thee.

SHO. No doubt, no doubt, thou lov'st her well, But listen now to what I tell: Since ye are both so well agreed, I wish you make more haste and speed. To-morrow is Holy-rood day, When all a-nutting take their way; Within the wood a close doth stand, Encompass'd round on either hand With trees and bushes; there will I Despatch your marriage presently.

GRIM. O Master Parson, your devising pate hath blessed me for ever. Joan, we'll have that so: the shorter the work the sweeter.

JOAN. And if my mother give but her consent, My absence shall in no case hinder it.

GRIM. She, quotha? she is mine already; we'll to her presently. Master Parson, 'tis a match; we'll meet you. Now, miller, do I go beyond you? I have stripped him of the wench, as a cook would strip an eel out of her skin, or a pudding out of the case thereof. Now I talk of a pudding, O, 'tis my only food, I am an old dog at it. Come, Joan, let us away, I'll pudding you.

SHO. Well, if my fortune luckily ensue, As you shall cosen him, I'll cosen you.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ CASTILIANO _at one door with_ MARIAN, EARL LACY _at another door with_ HONOREA.

CAS. Come, lovely Honorea, bright as day. As came Alcmena from her sacred bed With Jupiter, shap'd like Amphitrion, So show my love.

HON. My love! whom have we here? Sweet Musgrave! but, alas, I am betrayed!

CAS. Thou art my love.

LACY. No, mine.

HON. Nor yours, nor yours; But Musgrave's love. O Musgrave! where art thou?

LACY. Be not displeas'd, my dear; give me thy hand.

HON. My hand, false earl! nor hand nor heart of mine! Couldst thou thus cunningly deceive my hopes? And could my father give consent thereto? Well, neither he nor thou shalt force my love.

CAS. 'Tis I, fair Honorea, am thy love: Forsake the worthless earl, give me thy hand.

MAR. Whose hand would you have, sir? this hand is mine, And mine is yours: then keep you to your own: Yet are you mine, sir, and I mean to keep you. What! do you think to shake me off so soon? No, gentle husband, now 'tis too-too late; You should have look'd, before you came to bed.

_Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW[448] _with his master's gown_.

ROB. Many good-morrows to my gentle master And my new mistress; God give you both joy! What say you to your gown, sir, this cold morning?

CAS. Robin, I am undone, and cast away!

ROB. How, master, cast away upon a wife?

CAS. Yea, Robin, cast away upon a wife.

ROB. Cast her away then, master, can you not?

MAR. No, sir, he cannot, nor he shall not do it.

ROB. Why, how know you? I am sure you are not she.

MAR. Yes, sir, I am your mistress, as it falls.

ROB. As it falls, quoth ye? marry, a foul fall is it.

MAR. Base rascal, dost thou say that I am foul?

ROB. No, it was foul play for him to fall upon you.

MAR. How know you that he fell? were you so nigh?

[_She giveth_ ROBIN _a box on the ear_.

ROB. Mass, it should seem it was he that fell, if any, For you (methinks) are of a mounting nature: What, at my ears at first? a good beginning.

LACY. My dear delight, why dost thou stain thy cheeks, Those rosy beds, with this unseemly dew? Shake off those tears, that now untimely fall, And smile on me, that am thy summer's joy.

HON. Hapless am I to lose so sweet a prison, Thus to obtain a weary liberty. Happy had I been so to have remain'd, Of which estate I ne'er should have complain'd.

ROB. Whoop, whoo! more marriages! and all of a sort. Happy are they, I see, that live without them: if this be the beginning, what will be the ending?

_Enter_ EARL MORGAN _and_ DUNSTAN.

MOR. Look, Dunstan, where they be; displeas'd, no doubt, Try, if thou canst work reconciliation.

CAS. My lord, I challenge you of breach of promise, And claim your daughter here to be my wife.

LACY. Your claim is nought, sir; she is mine already.

HON. Your claim is nought, sir; I am none of yours.

MAR. Your claim is here, sir; Marian is yours. What, husband, newly married and inconstant! 'Greed we so well together all this night, And must we now fall out? for shame, for shame! A man of your years, and be so unstay'd! Come, come away, there may no other be; I will have you, therefore you shall have me.

ROB. This is the bravest country in the world, Where men get wives, whether they will or no: I trow ere long some wench will challenge me.

CAS. O, is not this a goodly consequence? I must have her, because she will have me!

DUN. Ladies and gentlemen, hear Dunstan speak. Marriage, no doubt, is ordain'd by providence; Is sacred, not to be by vain affect Turn'd to the idle humours of men's brains. Besides, for you, my lady Honorea, Your duty binds you to obey your father, Who better knows what fits you than yourself; And 'twere in you great folly to neglect The earl's great love, whereof you are unworthy, Should you but seem offended with the match. Therefore submit yourself to make amends, For 'tis your fault; so may you all be friends.

MOR. And, daughter, you must think what I have done Was for your good, to wed you to the earl, Who will maintain and love you royally: For what had Musgrave but his idle shape? A shadow to the substance you must build on.

ROB. She will build substance on him, I trow; Who keeps a shrew against her will, had better let her go. [_Aside_.]

MAR. Madam, conceal your grief, and seem content; For, as it is, you must be rul'd per force: Dissemble, till convenient time may serve To think on this despite and Musgrave's love. [_Aside_.]

LACY. Tell me, my dear, wilt thou at length be pleas'd?

HON. As good be pleas'd, my lord, as not be eas'd; Yet though my former love did move me much, Think not amiss, the same love may be yours.

CAS. What! is it a match? nay then, since you agree, I cannot mend myself, for aught I see; And therefore 'tis as good to be content. Come, lady, 'tis your lot to be my dame. Lordings, adieu; God send you all good speed! Some have their wives for pleasure, some for need.

LACY. Adieu, Castiliano: are we friends?

CAS. Yes, yes, my lord, there is no remedy.

ROB. No remedy, my masters, for a wife? A note for young beginners: mark it well.

[_Exeunt_.

_Enter_ FORREST, CAPTAIN CLINTON, HARVEY.

FOR. Now, gallants, what imagine you of this? Our noses are all slit; for Mariana, The Spanish doctor hath her to his wife, And Musgrave's hopes are dead for Honorea, For she is married to the Earl of Kent. 'Twill be good sport to see them when they rise. If so they be not gotten up already.

CLIN. I say the devil go with them all for me. The Spanish doctor marry Marian! I think that slave was born to cross me still. Had it not been last day before the earl, Upon my conscience, I had crack'd his crown, When first he ask'd the lady for his wife; Now he hath got her too, whom I desir'd. Why, he'll away with her ere long to Spain, And keep her there to dispossess our hopes.

FOR. No, I can comfort you for that suppose:[449] For yesterday he hir'd a dwelling-house, And here he means to tarry all this year; So long at least, whate'er he doth hereafter.

CLIN. A sudden plotform[450] comes into my mind, And this it is. Miles Forrest, thou and I Are partly well acquainted with the doctor. Ralph Harvey shall along with us to him; Him we'll prefer for his apothecary? Now, sir, when Ralph and he are once acquainted, His wife may often come unto his house, Either to see his garden, or such like: For, doubt not, women will have means enough, If they be willing, as I hope she will. There may we meet her, and let each one plead: He that speeds best, why let him carry it.

FOR. I needs must laugh to think how all we three, In the contriving of this feat, agree: But, having got her, every man will strive How each may other of her love deprive.

CLIN. Tut, Forrest! love admits these friendly strifes; But say, how like you of my late device?

FOR. Surpassing well, but let's about it straight, Lest he before our coming be provided.

CLIN. Agreed.

[_Exeunt.

Enter_ MUSGRAVE _and_ MARIAN.

MUS. Tush, cousin! tell not me; but this device Was long ago concluded 'twixt you two, Which divers reasons move me to imagine: And therefore these are toys to blind my eyes, To make me think she only loved me, And yet is married to another man.

MAR. Why, cousin Musgrave, are your eyes so blind You cannot see the truth of that report? Did you not know my lord was always bent, Whatever came, to wed her to the earl? And have you not, besides, heard the device He us'd to marry her against her will? Betray'd, poor soul, unto Earl Lacy's bed, She thought she held young Musgrave in her arms! Her morning tears might testify her thoughts; Yet thou shalt see she loves thee more than him, And thou shalt taste the sweets of her delights. Meantime, my house shall be thy mansion And thy abode, for thither will she come: Use thou that opportunity, and try Whether she lov'd thee, or did but dissemble.

MUS. If she continue kind to me hereafter, I shall imagine well of her and you.

_Enter_ CASTILIANO.

CAS. Now, dame, in talk! what gentleman is this?

MAR. My cousin Musgrave, husband, comes to see you.

CAS. Musgrave, now, on my faith, heartily welcome. Give me thy hand, my cousin and my friend, My partner in the loss of Honorea; We two must needs be friends: our fortune's like: Marry, yet I am richer by a shrew.

MAR. 'Tis better to be a shrew, sir, than a sheep;[451] You have no cause, I hope, yet to complain?

CAS. No, dame; for yet you know 'tis honeymoon. What! we have scarcely settled our acquaintance.

MUS. I doubt not, cousin, but ye shall agree, For she is mild enough, if she be pleas'd.

CAS. So is the devil, they say[452] [_aside_]: yea, cousin, yea, My dear and I, I doubt not, shall agree.

_Enter_ ROBIN GOODFELLOW.

ROB. Sir, here be two or three gentlemen at the door Would gladly speak a word with your worship.

_Enter_ CLINTON, FORREST, HARVEY.

[CAS.] They need no bidding, methinks: they can come alone!

CLIN. God save you, Signior Castiliano.

CAS. O captain, _come sta_?[453] welcome all, my friends!

FOR. Sir, we are come to bid God give you joy, And see your house.

MAR. Welcome, gentlemen: 'Tis kindly done to come to see us here.

ROB. This kindness makes me fear my master's head: Such hotspurs must have game, howe'er they get it.

CLIN. We have a suit to you, Castiliano.

CAS. What is it, sir? if it lies in me, 'tis done.

CLIN. Nay, but a trifle, sir, and that is: This same young man, by trade apothecary, Is willing to retain unto your cures.

CAS. Marry, with all my heart, and welcome too. What may I call your name, my honest friend?

HAR. Ralph Harvey, sir; your neighbour here hard by. The Golden Lion is my dwelling-place, Where what you please shall be with care perform'd.

CAS. Gramercies, Harvey! welcome, all my friends! Let's in, and handsel our new mansion-house With a carousing round of Spanish wine. Come, cousin Musgrave, you shall be my guest; My dame, I trow, will welcome you herself.

MAR. No, boy, Lord Lacy's wife shall welcome thee.

ROB. So now the game begins, here's some cheer toward; I must be skinker[454] then: let me alone; They all shall want, ere Robin shall have none.

[_Exeunt omnes nisi_ CLINTON _and_ HARVEY.

CLIN. Sirrah Ralph Harvey, now the entry is made, Thou only hast access without suspect.[455] Be not forgetful of thy agent here; Remember Clinton was the man that did it.

HAR. Why, captain, now you talk in jealousy. Do not misconstrue my true-meaning heart.

CLIN. Ralph, I believe thee, and rely on thee. Do not too long absent thee from the doctor: Go in, carouse, and taint his Spanish brain; I'll follow, and my Marian's health maintain.

HAR. Captain, you well advise me; I'll go in, And for myself my love-suits I'll begin.

[_Exeunt_.