SCENE II.

_Enter_ Petesca, _and Gentlewoman_.

_Pet._ Lord, what a coil has here been with these Souldiers! They are cruel fellows.

_Wom._ And yet methought we found 'em Handsome enough; I'll tell thee true, _Petesca_, I lookt for other manner of dealings from 'em, And had prepar'd my self; but where's my Lady?

_Pet._ In her old dumps within: monstrous melancholy; Sure she was mad of this Wench.

_Wom._ And she had been a man, She would have been a great deal madder, I am glad she is shifted.

_Pet._ 'Twas a wicked thing for me to betray her, And yet I must confess she stood in our lights.

_Enter_ Alinda.

What young thing's this?

_Alin._ Good morrow beauteous Gentlewomen: 'Pray ye is the Princess stirring yet?

_Wom._ He has her face.

_Pet._ Her very tongue, and tone too: her youth upon him.

_Alin._ I guess ye to be the Princess Women.

_Pet._ Yes, we are, Sir.

_Alin._ Pray is there not a Gentlewoman waiting on her Grace, Ye call _Alinda_?

_Pet._ The Devil sure in her shape.

_Wom._ I have heard her tell my Lady of a Brother, An only Brother that she had: in travel--

_Pet._ 'Mass, I remember that: this may be he too: I would this thing would serve her.

_Enter_ Olympia.

_Wom._ So would I Wench, We should love him better sure: Sir, here's the Princess, She best can satisfie ye.

_Alin._ How I love that presence! O blessed Eyes, how nobly shine your comforts!

_Olym._ What Gentleman is that?

_Wom._ We know not, Madam: He ask'd us for your Grace: and as we guess it, He is _Alinda_'s Brother.

_Olym._ Ha! let me mark him: My grief has almost blinded me: her Brother? By _Venus_, he has all her sweetness upon him: Two silver drops of dew were never liker.

_Alin._ Gracious Lady--

_Olym._ That pleasant pipe he has too.

_Alin._ Being my happiness to pass by this way, And having as I understand by Letters, A Sister in your vertuous service, Madam--

_Olym._ O now my heart, my heart akes.

_Alin._ All the comfort My poor youth has, all that my hopes have built me, I thought it my first duty, my best service, Here to arrive first, humbly to thank your Grace For my poor Sister, humbly to thank your Nobleness, That bounteous Goodness in ye.

_Olym._ 'Tis he certainly.

_Alin._ That spring of favour to her; with my life, Madam, If any such most happy means might meet me, To shew my thankfulness.

_Olym._ What have I done, Fool!

_Alin._ She came a stranger to your Grace, no Courtier; Nor of that curious breed befits your service, Yet one I dare assure my Soul, that lov'd ye Before she saw ye; doted on your Vertues; Before she knew those fair eyes, long'd to read 'em, You only had her prayers, you her wishes; And that one hope to be yours once, preserv'd her.

_Olym._ I have done wickedly.

_Alin._ A little Beauty, Such as a Cottage breeds, she brought along with her; And yet our Country-eyes esteem'd it much too: But for her beauteous mind, forget great Lady, I am her Brother, and let me speak a stranger, Since she was able to beget a thought, 'twas honest. The daily study how to fit your services, Truly to tread that vertuous path you walk in, So fir'd her honest Soul, we thought her Sainted; I presume she is still the same: I would fain see her, For Madam, 'tis no little love I owe her.

_Olym._ Sir, such a maid there was, I had--

_Alin._ There was, Madam?

_Olym._ O my poor Wench: eyes, I will ever curse ye For your Credulity, _Alinda_.

_Alin._ That's her name, Madam.

_Olym._ Give me a little leave, Sir, to lament her.

_Alin._ Is she dead, Lady?

_Olym._ Dead, Sir, to my service. She is gone, pray ye ask no further.

_Alin._ I obey Madam: Gone? now must I lament too: said ye gone Madam?

_Olym._ Gone, gone for ever.

_Alin._ That's a cruel saying: Her honour too?

_Olym._ Prithee look angry on me, And if thou ever lovedst her, spit upon me; Do something like a Brother, like a friend, And do not only say thou lov'st her--

_Al._ Ye amaze me.

_Oly._ I ruin'd her, I wrong'd her, I abus'd her; Poor innocent soul, I flung her; sweet _Alinda_, Thou vertuous maid, my soul now calls thee vertuous. Why do ye not rail now at me?

_Al._ For what Lady?

_Oly._ Call me base treacherous woman.

_Al._ Heaven defend me.

_Oly._ Rashly I thought her false, and put her from me, Rashly, and madly I betrai'd her modesty, Put her to wander, heaven knows where: nay, more Sir, Stuck a black brand upon her.

_Al._ 'Twas not well Lady.

_Oly._ 'Twas damnable: she loving me so dearly, Never poor wench lov'd so: Sir believe me, 'Twas the most dutious wench, the best companion, When I was pleas'd, the happiest, and the gladdest, The modestest sweet nature dwelt within her: I saw all this, I knew all this, I lov'd it, I doated on it too, and yet I kill'd it: O what have I forsaken? what have I lost?

_Al._ Madam, I'le take my leave, since she is wandring, 'Tis fit I know no rest.

_Oly._ Will you go too Sir? I have not wrong'd you yet, if you dare trust me, For yet I love _Alinda_ there, I honour her, I love to look upon those eyes that speak her, To read that face again, (modesty keep me,) _Alinda_, in that shape: but why should you trust me, 'Twas I betray'd your Sister, I undid her; And believe me, gentle youth, 'tis I weep for her: Appoint what penance you please: but stay then, And see me perform it: ask what honour this place Is able to heap on ye, or what wealth: If following me will like ye, my care of ye, Which for your sisters sake, for your own goodness--

_Al._ Not all the honour earth has, now she's gone Lady, Not all the favour; yet if I sought preferment, Under your bounteous Grace I would only take it. Peace rest upon ye: one sad tear every day For poor _Alindas_. sake, 'tis fit ye pay. [_Exit._

_Oly._ A thousand noble youth, and when I sleep, Even in my silver slumbers still I'le weep. [_Exit._

SCENA III.

_Enter_ Duke, _and Gentlemen_.

_Duke._ Have ye been with 'em?

_Gent._ Yes, and't please your Grace, But no perswasion serves 'em, nor no promise, They are fearfull angry, and by this time Sir, Upon their march to the Enemy.

_Du._ They must be stopt.

_Enter_ Burris.

_Gent._ I, but what force is able? and what leader--

_Du._ How now, have you been with _Archas_?

_Bur._ Yes, and't please ye, And told him all: he frets like a chaf'd Lyon, And calls for his Arms: and all those honest Courtiers That dare draw Swords.

_Du._ Is he able to do any thing?

_Bur._ His mind is well enough; and where his charge is, Let him be ne're so sore, 'tis a full Army.

_Du._ Who commands the Rebels?

_Bur._ The young Colonel, That makes the old man almost mad: he swears Sir, He will not spare his Sons head for the Dukedom.

_Du._ Is the Court in Arms?

_Bur._ As fast as they can bustle, Every man mad to goe now: inspir'd strangely, As if they were to force the Enemy, I beseech your Grace to give me leave.

_Du._ Pray go Sir, And look to the old man well; take up all fairly, And let no bloud be spilt; take general pardons, And quench this fury with fair peace.

_Bur._ I shall Sir, Or seal it with my service; they are villains: The Court is up: good Sir, go strengthen 'em, Your Royal sight will make 'em scorn all dangers; The General needs no proof.

_Duke._ Come let's go view 'em. [_Exeunt._

SCENA IV.

_Enter_ Theodore, Putskie, _Ancient_, _Souldiers_, _Drums_, _and Colours_.

_The._ 'Tis known we are up, and marching: no submission, No promise of base peace can cure our maladies, We have suffer'd beyond all repair of honour: Your valiant old man's whipt; whipt Gentlemen, Whipt like a slave: that flesh that never trembled, Nor shrunk one sinew at a thousand charges, That noble body rib'd in arms, the Enemy So often shook at, and then shun'd like thunder, That body's torn with lashes.

_Anc._ Let's turn head.

_Put._ Turn nothing Gentlemen, let's march on fairly, Unless they charge us.

_The._ Think still of his abuses, And keep your angers.

_Anc._ He was whipt like a top, I never saw a whore so lac'd: Court school-butter? Is this their diet? I'le dress 'em one running banquet: What Oracle can alter us? did not we see him? See him we lov'd?

_The._ And though we did obey him, Forc'd by his reverence for that time; is't fit Gentlemen? My noble friends, is't fit we men, and Souldiers, Live to endure this, and look on too?

_Put._ Forward: They may call back the Sun as soon, stay time, Prescribe a Law to death, as we endure this.

_The._ They will make ye all fair promises.

_Anc._ We care not.

_The._ Use all their arts upon ye.

_Anc._ Hang all their arts.

_Put._ And happily they'l bring him with 'em.

_Anc._ March apace then, He is old and cannot overtake us.

_Put._ Say he doe.

_Anc._ We'l run away with him: they shall never see him more: The truth is, we'l hear nothing, stop at nothing, Consider nothing but our way; believe nothing, Not though they say their prayers: be content with nothing, But the knocking out their brains: and last, do nothing But ban 'em and curse 'em, till we come to kill 'em.

_The._ Remove then forwards bravely; keep your minds whole, And the next time we face 'em, shall be fatal. [_Exeunt._

SCENA V.

_Enter_ Archas, _Duke,_ Burris, _Gent_, _and Sould_.

_Ar._ Peace to your Grace; take rest Sir, they are before us.

_Gent._ They are Sir, and upon the march. [_Exit_ Duke.

_Ar._ Lord _Burris_, Take you those horse and coast 'em: upon the first advantage, If they will not slake their march, charge 'em up roundly, By that time I'le come in.

_Bur._ I'le do it truly. [_Exit._

_Gent._ How do you feel your self Sir?

_Ar._ Well, I thank ye; A little weak, but anger shall supply that; You will all stand bravely to it?

_All._ Whilst we have lives Sir.

_Ar._ Ye speak like Gentlemen; I'le make the knaves know, The proudest, and the strongest hearted Rebel, They have a law to live in, and they shall have; Beat up a pace, by this time he is upon 'em, [_Drum within._ And sword, but hold me now, thou shalt play ever. [_Exeunt._

_Enter Drums beating_, Theodore, Putskie, _Ancient_, _and their Souldiers._

_The._ Stand, stand, stand close, and sure;

_Enter_ Burris, _and 1 or 2 Souldiers_.

The horse will charge us.

_Anc._ Let 'em come on, we have provender fit for 'em.

_Put._ Here comes Lord _Burris_ Sir, I think to parly.

_The._ You are welcom noble Sir, I hope to our part.

_Bur._ No, valiant Colonel, I am come to chide ye, To pity ye; to kill ye, if these fail me; Fie, what dishonour seek ye! what black infamy! Why do ye draw out thus? draw all shame with ye? Are these fit cares in subjects? I command ye Lay down your arms again, move in that peace, That fair obedience you were bred in.

_Put._ Charge us: We come not here to argue.

_The._ Charge up bravely, And hotly too, we have hot spleens to meet ye, Hot as the shames are offer'd us.

_Enter_ Archas, _Gent. and Souldiers_.

_Bur._ Look behind ye. Do you see that old man? do you know him Souldiers?

_Put._ Your Father Sir, believe me--

_Bur._ You know his marches, You have seen his executions: is it yet peace?

_The._ We'l dye here first.

_Bur._ Farewel: you'l hear on's presently.

_Ar._ Stay _Burris_: this is too poor, too beggerly a body To bear the honour of a charge from me, A sort of tatter'd Rebels; go provide Gallowses; Ye are troubled with hot heads, I'le cool ye presently: These look like men that were my Souldiers Now I behold 'em nearly, and more narrowly, My honest friends: where got they these fair figures? Where did they steal these shapes?

_Bur._ They are struck already.

_Ar._ Do you see that fellow there, that goodly Rebel? He looks as like a Captain I lov'd tenderly: A fellow of a faith indeed.

_Bur._ He has sham'd him.

_Ar._ And that that bears the Colours there, most certain So like an Ancient of mine own, a brave fellow, A loving and obedient, that believe me _Burris_, I am amaz'd and troubled: and were it not I know the general goodness of my people, The duty, and the truth, the stedfast honestie, And am assur'd they would as soon turn Devils As rebels to allegeance, for mine honour.

_Bur._ Here needs no wars.

_Put._ I pray forgive us Sir.

_Anc._ Good General forgive us, or use your sword, Your words are double death.

_All._ Good noble General.

_Bur._ Pray Sir be mercifull.

_Ar._ Weep out your shames first, Ye make me fool for companie: fie Souldiers, My Souldiers too, and play these tricks? what's he there? Sure I have seen his face too; yes, most certain I have a son, but I hope he is not here now, 'Would much resemble this man, wondrous near him, Just of his height and making too, you seem a Leader.

_The._ Good Sir, do not shame me more: I know your anger, And less than death I look not for.

_Ar._ You shall be my charge Sir, it seems you want foes, When you would make your friends your Enemies. A running bloud ye have, but I shall cure ye.

_Bur._ Good Sir--

_An._ No more good Lord: beat forward Souldiers: And you, march in the rear, you have lost your places. [_Exeunt._

SCENA VI.

_Enter Duke_, Olympia, Honora, Viola.

_Du._ You shall not be thus sullen still with me Sister, You do the most unnobly to be angry, For as I have a soul, I never touch'd her, I never yet knew one unchast thought in her: I must confess, I lov'd her: as who would not? I must confess I doated on her strangely, I offer'd all, yet so strong was her honour, So fortifi'd as fair, no hope could reach her, And whilst the world beheld this, and confirm'd it, Why would you be so jealous?

_Oly._ Good Sir pardon me, I feel sufficiently my follies penance, And am asham'd, that shame a thousand sorrows Feed on continually, would I had never seen her, Or with a clearer judgement look'd upon her, She was too good for me, so heavenly good Sir, Nothing but Heaven can love that soul sufficiently, Where I shall see her once again.

_Enter_ Burris.

_Du._ No more tears, If she be within the Dukedom, we'l recover her: Welcom Lord _Burris_, fair news I hope.

_Bur._ Most fair Sir, Without one drop of bloud these wars are ended, The Souldier cool'd again, indeed asham'd Sir, And all his anger ended.

_Du._ Where's Lord _Archas_?

_Bur._ Not far off Sir: with him his valiant son, Head of this fire, but now a prisoner, And if by your sweet mercy not prevented, I fear some fatal stroke. [_Drums._

_Enter_ Archas, Theodore, _Gentlemen_, _Souldiers_.

_Du._ I hear the Drums beat, Welcom, my worthy friend.

_Ar._ Stand where ye are Sir, Even as you love your country, move not forward, Nor plead for peace till I have done a justice, A justice on this villain; none of mine now, A justice on this Rebel.

_Hon._ O my Brother.

_Ar._ This fatal firebrand--

_Du._ Forget not old man, He is thy son, of thine own bloud.

_Ar._ In these veins No treacherie e're harbour'd yet, no mutinie, I ne're gave life to lewd and headstrong Rebels.

_Du._ 'Tis his first fault.

_Ar._ Not of a thousand Sir, Or were it so, it is a fault so mightie, So strong against the nature of all mercy, His Mother were she living, would not weep for him, He dare not say he would live.

_The._ I must not Sir, Whilst you say 'tis not fit: your Graces mercy Not to my life appli'd, but to my fault Sir, The worlds forgiveness next, last, on my knees Sir, I humbly beg, Do not take from me yet the name of Father, Strike me a thousand blows, but let me dye yours.

_Ar._ He moves my heart: I must be suddain with him, I shall grow faint else in my execution; Come, come Sir, you have seen death; now meet him bravely.

_Du._ Hold, hold I say, a little hold, consider Thou hast no more sons _Archas_ to inherit thee.

_Ar._ Yes Sir, I have another, and a nobler: No treason shall inherit me: young _Archas_ A boy, as sweet as young, my Brother breeds him, My noble Brother _Briskie_ breeds him nobly, Him let your favour find: give him your honour.

_Enter_ Putskie (_alias_ Briskie) _and_ Alinda, (_alias_ Archas.)

_Pu._ Thou hast no child left _Archas_, none to inherit thee If thou strikst that stroke now: behold young _Archas_; Behold thy Brother here, thou bloudy Brother, As bloody to this sacrifice as thou art: Heave up thy sword, and mine's heav'd up: strike _Archas_, And I'le strike too as suddenly, as deadly: Have mercy, and I'le have mercy: the Duke gives it. Look upon all these, how they weep it from thee, Choose quickly, and begin.

_Du._ On your obedience, On your allegeance save him.

_Ar._ Take him to ye, [_Soul. shout._ And sirrah, be an honest man, ye have reason: I thank ye worthy Brother: welcom child, Mine own sweet child.

_Du._ Why was this boy conceal'd thus?

_Put._ Your graces pardon: Fearing the vow you made against my Brother, And that your anger would not only light On him, but find out all his familie, This young boy, to preserve from after danger, Like a young wench, hither I brought; my self In the habit of an ordinarie Captain Disguis'd, got entertainment, and serv'd here That I might still be ready to all fortunes: That boy your Grace took, nobly entertain'd him, But thought a Girle, _Alinda_, Madam.

_Ol._ Stand away, And let me look upon him.

_Du._ My young Mistris? This is a strange metamorphosis, _Alinda_?

_Al._ Your graces humble servant.

_Du._ Come hither Sister: I dare yet scarce believe mine eyes: how they view one another? Dost thou not love this boy well?

_Oly._ I should lye else, Trust me, extreamly lye Sir.

_Du._ Didst thou never wish _Olympia_, It might be thus?

_Oly._ A thousand times.

_Du._ Here take him: Nay, do not blush: I do not jest; kiss sweetly: Boy, ye kiss faintly boy; Heaven give ye comfort; Teach him, he'l quickly learn: there's two hearts eas'd now.

_Ar._ You do me too much honour Sir.

_Du._ No _Archas_, But all I can, I will; can you love me? speak truly.

_Hon._ Yes Sir, dearly.

_Du._ Come hither _Viola_, can you love this man?

_Vio._ I'le do the best I can Sir.

_Du._ Seal it _Burris_, We'l all to Church together instantly: And then a vie for boyes; stay, bring _Boroskie_.

_Enter_ Boroskie.

I had almost forgot that lump of mischief. There _Archas_, take the enemie to honour, The knave to worth: do with him what thou wilt.

_Ar._ Then to my sword again; you to your prayers; Wash off your villanies, you feel the burthen.

_Bor._ Forgive me e're I die, most honest _Archas_; 'Tis too much honour that I perish thus; O strike my faults to kill them, that no memorie, No black and blasted infamy hereafter----

_Ar._ Come, are ye ready?

_Bor._ Yes.

_Ar._ And truly penitent, to make your way straight?

_Bor._ Thus I wash off my sins.

_Ar._ Stand up, and live then, And live an honest man; I scorn mens ruines: Take him again, Sir, trie him: and believe This thing will be a perfect man.

_Du._ I take him.

_Bor._ And when I fail those hopes, heavens hopes fail me.

_Du._ You are old: no more wars Father: _Theodore_ take you the charge, be General.

_The._ All good bless ye.

_Du._ And my good Father, you dwell in my bosom, From you rise all my good thoughts: when I would think And examine time for one that's fairly noble, And the same man through all the streights of vertue, Upon this Silver book I'le look, and read him. Now forward merrily to _Hymens_ rites, To joyes, and revels, sports, and he that can Most honour _Archas_, is the noblest man. [_Exeunt._

Prologue.

_We need not noble Gentlemen to invite Attention, preinstruct you who did write This worthy Story, being confident The mirth join'd with grave matter, and Intent To yield the hearers profit, with delight, Will speak the maker: and to do him right, Would ask a Genius like to his; the age Mourning his loss, and our now widdowed stage In vain lamenting. I could adde, so far Behind him the most modern writers are, That when they would commend him, their best praise Ruins the buildings which they strive to raise To his best memory, so much a friend Presumes to write, secure 'twill not offend The living that are modest, with the rest That may repine he cares not to contest. This debt to_ Fletcher _paid; it is profest By us the Actors, we will do our best To send such favouring friends, as hither come To grace the Scene, pleas'd, and contented home._

Epilogue.

_Though something well assur'd, few here repent Three hours of pretious time, or money spent On our endeavours, Yet not to relye Too much upon our care, and industrie, 'Tis fit we should ask, but a modest way How you approve our action in the play. If you vouchsafe to crown it with applause, It is your bountie, and you give us cause Hereafter with a general consent To study, as becomes us, your content._

* * * * *

p. #47#, l. 9. _Adds_ Finis Actus Tertii. l. 11. Servant and R. Bax, and. l. 12. A stirs a stirs. l. 26. barkes.

p. #48#, l. 34. and whom.

p. #49#, l. 26. his fierce. l. 29. roome then. l. 30. and old. l. 33. your rare. l. 37. her Ladies.

p. #50#, l. 12. I must.

p. #51#, l. 2. has. l. 7. 2nd folio _misprints_] Philax.

p. #52#, l. 1. _Adds as follows_]

_Clo._ Why that ye wo't of,

_Chi._ The turne the good turne?

_Clo._ Any turne the Roche turne;

_Chi._ That's the right turne for that turnes up the bellie, I cannot, _etc._

l. 17. as brickle. l. 20. That think no.

p. #55#, l. 7. ath'. l. 8. ath' the. l. 17. weaker. l. 29. a that. l. 38. a will.

p. #56#, l. 26. 2nd folio _misprints_] ne's. l. 29. A comes. l. 35. stand up my.

p. #57#, l. 14. rogue. l. 21. art ta? l. 23. art ta? l. 32. thou art a. l. 39. doe ye.

p. #58#, l. 18. Lyons. l. 26. _Adds_ Finis Actus Quarti. l. 28. Priest. l. 30. a your.

p. #60#, l. 9. cure this. l. 10. He's man. l. 12. is now. l. 16. Oracle, Arras.

p. #61#, l. 36. therefore, thy.

p. #62#, l. 3. Therefore be. l. 9. I shall. l. 19. a had. l. 36. 2nd folio] ha'!

p. #63#, l. 6. A will. l. 14. makes he. l. 28. Battell.

p. #64#, l. 2. _Omits_ and. l. 7. in boyes in boyes. l. 38. 2nd folio _misprints_] Cle.

p. #65#, l. 17. _Omits_ her.

p. #67#, l. 10. 2nd folio _omits_] Chi. (_char._). l. 10. Chickens. l. 24. weepes. l. 26. A was. l. 27. Ye have.

p. #69#, l. 8. and like. l. 33. Cleanthe, Curtisan, Lords.

p. #70#, l. 6. my glorious. l. 34. a sight. l. 36. ye could. _Adds as next line_] Roome before there. _Knock._

p. #71#, l. 8. _Prints_ To the, etc., _as a separate line and as a heading_. l. 9. _For_ Eum. _reads_ 1. Cap.

p. #73#, l. 15. lov'st her. l. 31. 2nd folio] Sister!

p. #75#, l. 13. the Saylors sing. l. 28. utters. l. 32. _Adds_ Finis.

THE LOYAL SUBJECT.

p. #76#, ll. 3-40. Not in 1st folio.

p. #78#, l. 14. Archus. l. 15. souldier. l. 23. Archus. l. 37. now you.

p. #79#, l. 4. 2nd folio _misprints_] Pet.

p. #80#, l. 24. eyes.

p. #82#, l. 4. But to. l. 31. 2nd folio _misprints_] Augel.

p. #84#, l. 35. 2nd folio _misprints_] Gentlenem.

p. #86#, l. 2. pray ye be. l. 38. thanke high heaven.

p. #87#, l. 1. 2nd folio] in'? l. 30. _Omits_ Exit.

p. #90#, l. 4. a pieces. l. 30. beseech yee.

p. #91#, l. 6. marvelous fine.

p. #92#, l. 8. too late to. l. 10. tremble. l. 30. _Adds_ Exeunt.

p. #94#, l. 14. Of every.

p. #96#, l. 18. 2nd folio _misprints_] may. l. 34. and 'has. l. 38. And noise.

p. #97#, l. 23. who, for. l. 25. And shewrd.

p. #103#, l. 35. 2nd folio _misprints_] Lorship.

p. #106#, l. 16. 2nd folio] feed then.

p. #107#, l. 18. it fits so.

p. #112#, l. 8. fishmarket. l. 28. paintings. l. 32. 2nd folio _misprints_] Aac.

p. #113#, l. 30. 'has. l. 34. blame ye.

p. #114#, l. 34. 'Has.

p. #115#, l. 3. ye see. l. 28. me Armes. l. 38. None, none my Lord.

p. #116#, l. 1. Thanke ye. l. 18. me too far. l. 31. he is.

p. #117#, l. 21. content like harmles.

p. #118#, l. 17. the fashion to.

p. #119#, l. 21. ungrased. l. 38. 2nd folio _misprints_] Is.

p. #120#, l. 34. art not mad.

p. #123#, l. 37. serv'd yee.

p. #124#, l. 11. _Omits_ do. l. 15. women. l. 21. thinke ye.

p. #125#, l. 1. it; 'sod if. l. 24. Wickedly.

p. #127#, l. 16. yeare.

p. #128#, l. 9. _Reads stage direction_] Exit.

p. #130#, l. 6. 2nd folio _misprints_] Bur. l. 10. _Omits_ please.

p. #134#, l. 31. hast ruine.

p. #136#, l. 31. _The catchword at the foot of the page in the 1st folio is_ And.

p. #138#, l. 37. 2nd folio] Broms.

p. #139#, l. 1. no trade. l. 7. 2nd folio] traeds.

p. #140#, l. 27. of your.

p. #141#, l. 37. thats that. l. 39. 2nd folio _misprints_] Hoa.

p. #142#, l. 30. 2nd folio _misprints_] Dou.

p. #146#, l. 18. tal.

p. #147#, l. 22. _Omits_ are.

p. #148#, l. 36. till ye.

p. #149#, l. 40. _Adds_ Exit.

p. #150#, l. 8. that told. l. 18. 2nd folio _misprints_] guily.

p. #151#, l. 13. Sword. l. 31. and Kits. l. 36. well meet.

p. #153#, l. 15. 'May do. l. 25. see these.

p. #154#, l. 9. beleeve ye. l. 22. not we.

p. #155#, l. 31. Archas yet?

p. #157#, l. 10. Pray you. l. 27. shines.

p. #162#, l. 29. not slacke.

p. #167#, l. 22. The boy.

p. #168#, l. 38. Hymens rights.

p. #169#, l. 34. _Adds_ Finis.

RULE A WIFE, AND HAVE A WIFE.

The Dramatis Personae are not given in the quarto of 1640 nor in the 2nd folio. They are as follows:--Duke of Medina. Juan de Castro, Sanchio, Alonzo, Michael Perez, Officers. Leon, Altea's brother. Cacafogo, a userer. Lorenzo. Coachman, etc. Margarita. Altea. Estifania. Clara. Three old ladies. Old woman. Maids, etc.

Unless where otherwise stated the following variations are from the quarto of 1640, the title-page of which runs thus:--

Rule a Wife | And have a Wife. | A comoedy. | Acted by his | Majesties Servants. | Written by | John Fletcher | Gent. | Oxford, | Printed by Leonard Lichfield | Printer to the University. | Anno 1640.

p. #170#, l. 30. mouth.

p. #171#, l. 14. most sublest. l. 18. With yee. l. 19. them. l. 38. _and often elsewhere_] um _for_ 'em.

p. #172#, l. 2. the picke.

p. #173#, l. 22. thank ye.

p. #175#, l. 1. Yes I. l. 29. Exit. l. 31. mine ayme.

p. #176#, l. 30. 2nd folio _prints_] calling. | And

p. #178#, l. 10. a starv'd. l. 22. look'st. l. 24. 2nd folio _misprints_] hear.

p. #179#, l. 33. Or any.

p. #182#, ll. 6, etc. Quarto _frequently prints_ 4. _for_ Altea _here and in similar places_. l. 33. doubty.

p. #183#, l. 2. Has not. l. 3. 2nd folio _misprints_] hin. l. 5. Has no. l. 38. 2nd folio _misprints_] compaines.

p. #184#, l. 13. a house.

p. #185#, l. 2. Altea, the Ladies. l. 4. has been.

p. #187#, l. 26. I finde.

p. #189#, l. 28. enter'd here. l. 39. salute him.

p. #190#, l. 25. if she.

p. #194#, ll. 8 and 11. _Omits_ Lady _here and often similarly elsewhere_.

p. #196#, l. 26. Exit.

p. #197#, l. 20. basinesse.