ACT I., SCENE 1.

_Enter_ SCUDMORE, _as in his chamber in a morning, half-ready, reading a letter_.

SCUD. _legit_. "Whereas you write, my fortune and my birth, Made above yours, may be a real cause That I must leave you, know, thou worthiest man, Thou hast a soul whose plenteous wealth supplies All the lean wants blind chance hath dealt to thee. Yet could I think the gods from all their store, Who ne'er knew indigence unto their will, Would out of all their stock of virtue left, Or out of all new graces they can make, Make such another piece as Scudmore is, Then might he justly fear; but otherwise Sooner the masculine element of fire Shall flame his pyramids down to the earth; Sooner her mountains shall swell up to heaven, Or softest April showers quench fires in hell: Sooner shall stars from this circumference Drop like false fiery exhalation, Than I be false to vows made unto thee, In whom aught near a fault I ne'er could see, But that you doubted once my constancy. Yours through the world, and to the end of time. BELLAFRONT."

SCUD. _Loqui, ut raptus_. If what I feel I could express in words, Methinks I could speak joy enough to men To banish sadness from all love for ever! O thou, that reconcil'st the faults of all That frothy sex, and in thy single self Confin'st--nay, hast engross'd, virtue enough To frame a spacious world of virtuous women, Hadst thou been the beginning of thy sex, I think the devil in the serpent's skin Had wanted cunning to o'ercome thy goodness, And all had liv'd and died in innocency-- The white original creation! [_Knocking within._ Who's there? Come in.

_Enter_ NEVILL.

NEV. What, up already, Scudmore! Ne'er a wench With thee? Not [e'en] thy laundress?

SCUD. Good morrow, my dear Nevill.

NEV. What's this? A letter? Sure, it is not so-- A letter written to Hieronimo.[10]

SCUD. By heaven! you must excuse me. Come, I know, You will not wrong my friendship and your manners To tempt me so.

NEV. Not for the world, my friend. Farewell, good morrow. [_Exiturus._

SCUD. Nay, sir, neither must you Depart in anger from this friendly hand. I swear I love you better than all men, Equally with all virtue in the world; Yet this would be a key to lead you to A prize of that importance----

NEV. Worthy friend, I leave you not in anger: what d'ye mean? Nor am I of that inquisitive nature fram'd To thirst to know your private businesses. Why, they concern not me: if they be ill And dangerous, 'twould grieve me much to know 'em; If good, they be so, though I know 'em not. Nor would I do your love so gross a wrong To covet to participate affairs Of that near touch, which your assured love Doth think not fit, or dares not trust me with.

SCUD. How sweetly does your friendship play with mine, And with a simple subtlety steals my heart Out of my bosom. By the holiest love That ever made a story, you're a man With all good so replete, that I durst trust you Ev'n with this secret, were it singly mine.

NEV. I do believe you. Farewell, worthy friend.

SCUD. Nay, look you; this same fashion does not please me: You were not wont to make your visitation So short and careless.

NEV. 'Tis your jealousy That makes you think so; for, by my soul, You have given me no distaste by keeping from me All things that might be burthenous, and oppress me. In troth, I am invited to a wedding, And the morn faster goes away from me, Than I go toward it; and so, good morrow.

SCUD. Good morrow, sir: think I durst show it you.

NEV. Now, by my life, I not desire it, sir, Nor ever lov'd these prying, listening men, That ask of others' states and passages: Not one among a hundred but proves false, Envious, and slanderous, and will cut that throat He twines his arms about. I love that poet, That gave us reading[11] not to seek ourselves Beyond ourselves. Farewell.

SCUD. You shall not go: I cannot now redeem the fault I have made To such a friend, but in disclosing all.

NEV. Now, if you love me, do not wrong me so. I see you labour with some serious thing, And think (like fairy's treasure) to reveal it, Will cause it vanish; and yet to conceal it, Will burst your breast: 'tis so delicious, And so much greater than the continent.

SCUD. O! you have pierc'd my entrails with your words, And I must now explain all to your eyes. Read, and be happy in my happiness.

NEV. Yet think on't: keep thy secret and thy friend Sure and entire. O, give not me the means To become false hereafter! or thyself A probable reason to distrust thy friend, Though he be ne'er so true. I will not see't.

SCUD. I die, by heaven, if you deny again. I starve for counsel: take it: look upon it. If you do not, it is an equal plague, As if it had been known and published. For God's sake, read! but with this caution-- By this right hand, by this yet unstain'd sword. Were you my father flowing in these waves, Or a dear son exhausted out of them, Should you betray this soul of all my hopes, Like the two brethren (though love made 'em stars) We must be never more seen both together.[12]

NEV. I read it fearless of the forfeiture; Yet warn you, be as cautelous not to wound My integrity with doubting[13] likelihoods, From misreport; but first exquire the truth. [_Legit_ NEVILL, SCUDMORE _aliquando respiciens_.

SCUD. Read, whilst I tell the story of my love, And sound the truth of her heroic spirit, Whom eloquence could never flatter yet, Nor the best tongue of praises reach unto. The maid there nam'd I met once on a green, Near to her father's house: methought she show'd-- For I did look on her, indeed no eye That ow'd a sensible member, but must dwell A while on such an object: The passing horses and the feeding kine Stood still, and left their journeys and their food: The singing birds were in contention, Which should 'light nearest her; for her clear eyes Deceiv'd even men, they were so like bright skies. Near, in a rivulet, swam two beauteous swans, Whiter than anything but her neck and hands, Which they left straight to comfort her: a bull Being baiting on the green for the swains' sport, She walking toward it: the vex'd savage beast Ceas'd bellowing, the snarling dogs were mute, And had enough to do to look on her, Whose face brought concord and an end of jars, Though nature made 'em ever to have wars, Had there been bears and lions, when she spake, They had been charm'd too; for Grecian's lute Was rustic music to her heavenly tongue, Whose sweetness e'en cast slumbers on mine eyes, Soft as content, yet would not let me sleep.

NEV. "Yours through the world, and to the end of time BELLAFRONT."

Which Bellafront? rich Sir John Worldly's daughter?

SCUD. She is the food, the sleep, the air I live by.

NEV. O heaven! we speak like gods and do like dogs.

SCUD. What means my----

NEV. This day this Bellafront, the rich heir, Is married unto Count Frederick, And that's the wedding I was going to.

SCUD. I prythee, do not mock me. Married!

NEV. It is no matter to be play'd withal, But even as true, as women all are false.

SCUD. O, that this stroke were thunder to my breast; For, Nevill, thou hast spoke my heart in twain, And with the sudden whirlwind of thy breath Hast ravish'd me out of a temperate soil, And set me under the red burning zone.

NEV. For shame! return thy blood into thy face. Know'st not how slight a thing a woman is?

SCUD. Yes, and how serious too. Come! I'll t' the Temple: She shall not damn herself for want of counsel.

NEV. O, prythee, run not thus into the streets! Come, dress you better: so. Ah! yes,[14] thy clothes Are, like thy mind, too much disordered. How strangely is this tide turn'd! For a world, I would not but have call'd here as I went. Collect thy spirits: we will use all means To check this black fate flying toward thee. Come! If thou miscarriest, 'tis my day of doom.

SCUD. Yes--now I'm fine. Married! It may be so; But, women, look to't: if she prove untrue, The devil take you all, that are his due! [_Exeunt._