SCENE II.

_Enter a Porter, 4 Beggers_, Pedro, _and a Pilgrim_.

_Por._ Stand off, and keep your ranks: twenty foot further: There louse your selves with reason and discretion. The Sun shines warm: the farther still the better, Your beasts will bolt anon, and then 'tis dangerous.

_1 Beg._ Heaven bless our Mistris.

_Por._ Does the crack go that way? 'Twill be o'th' other side anon.

_2 Beg._ Pray ye friend.

_Por._ Your friend? and why your friend? why goodman turncoat What dost thou see within me, or without me, Or what itch dost thou know upon me, tell me, That I should be thy friend? what do I look like Any of thy acquaintance hung in Gibbets? Hast thou any Friends, Kindred, or Alliance, Or any higher ambition, than an Alms-basket?

_2 Beg._ I would be your worships friend.

_Por._ So ye shall, Sirrah, When I quarter the same louse with ye.

_3 Beg._ 'Tis twelve o'clock.

_Por._ 'Tis ever so with thee, when thou hast done scratching, For that provokes thy stomach to ring noon; O the infinite Seas of Porridge thou hast swallow'd! And yet thou lookst as if they had been but Glysters; Thou feedst abundance, thou hadst need of sustenance; Alms do you call it to relieve these Rascals?

_Enter_ Alphonso, Curio, _and_ Seberto.

Nothing but a general rot of sheep can satisfie 'em.

_Alp._ Did not I tell you, how she would undo me? What Marts of Rogues, and Beggers!

_Seb._ 'Tis charity Methinks, you are bound to love her for--

_Alp._ Yes, I warrant ye, If men could sale to Heaven in Porridge-pots, With masts of Beef, and Mutton, what a Voyage should I make! What are all these?

_1 Beg._ Poor people, and 't like your worship.

_[2] Beg._ Wretched poor people.

_3 Beg._ Very hungry people.

_Alp._ And very Lousy.

_4 Beg._ Yes forsooth, so, so.

_Por._ I'le undertake five hundred head about 'em, And that's no needy Grasier.

_Alp._ What are you?

_Pil._ Strangers that come to wonder at your charity, Yet people poor enough to beg a blessing.

_Cur._ Use them with favour, Sir, their shews are reverent, It seems ye are holy _Pilgrims_?

_Pil._ Ye guess right, Sir, And bound far off, to offer our devotions.

_Alp._ What make ye this way? we keep no Reliques here, Nor holy Shrines.

_Pil._ The holiest we ere heard of; Ye keep a living monument of goodness, A Daughter of that pious excellence, The very Shrines of Saints sink at her vertues, And swear they cannot hold pace with her pieties, We come to see this Lady: not with prophane eyes, Nor wanton bloods, to doat upon her beauties, But through our tedious wayes to beg her blessings.

_Alp._ This is a new way of begging, and a neat one, And this cries mony for reward, good store too; These commendations beg not with bag, and bottle; Well, well, the Sainting of this Woman, Gentlemen, I know what it must come to: these Women Saints Are plaguy heavy Saints: they out-weigh a he-saint Three thousand thick; I know: I feel.

_Seb._ Ye are more afraid than hurt, Sir.

_Alp._ Have you your commendations ready too? He bows, and nods.

_Cur._ A handsome well built person.

_Alp._ What Country-craver are you? nothing but motion? A puppet-Pilgrim?

_Pil._ He's a stranger, Sir; This four days I have Travel'd in his Company, But little of his business, or his Language As yet I have understood.

_Seb._ Both young and handsome, Only the Sun has been too saucy with him.

_Alp._ Would ye have mony, Sir, or meat? what kind of blessing Does your devotion look for? Still more ducking? Be there any Saints, that understand by signs only? More motion yet? this is the prettiest Pilgrim, The pink of Pilgrims: I'le be for ye, Sir; Do ye discourse with signs? ye are heartily welcome: A poor viaticum; very good gold, Sir: But holy men affect a better treasure. I kept it for your goodness, but ne'rtheless Since it can prove but burthensome to your holiness, And that you affect light prayer, fit for carriage, I'le put this up again.

_Cur._ Ye are too unreverent.

_Alp._ Ye talk too broad! must I give way, and wealth too To every toy, that carries a grave seeming? Must my good Angels wait on him? if the proud hilding Would yield but to my will, and know her duty I know what I would suffer.

_Seb._ Good Sir, be patient, The wrongs ye do these men, may light on you, Too heavy too: and then you will wish you had said less; A comely and sweet usage becomes strangers.

_Alp._ We shall have half the Kingdom strangers shortly, And this fond prodigality be suffer'd; But I must be an Ass, see 'em relieved, sirrah; If I were young again, I would sooner get Bear-whelps, And safer too, than any of these she-saints, But I will break her.

_Cur._ Such a face for certain.

_Seb._ Me thinks I have seen it too: but we are cozen'd; But fair befal thee Pilgrim, thou lookst lovely. [_Exit._

_Por._ Will ye troop up, ye Porridge Regiment?

_Enter_ Alinda, _and_ Juletta.

Captain Poors quarter will ye move?

_Alin._ Ye dull Knave, Are not these wretches served yet?

_Beg._ 'Bless my Mistris.

_Alin._ Do you make sport, Sir, with their miseries? Ye drousie Rogue.

_Por._ They are too high fed, Madam, Their stomachs are a sleep yet.

_Alin._ Serve 'em plentifully, Or I'le serve you out next: even out o' doors, sirrah; And serve 'em quickly too.

_Beg._ Heaven bless the Lady.

_Alin._ Bless the good end I mean it for.

_Jul._ I would I knew it: If it be for any mans sake, I'le cry Amen too. Well, Madam, ye have even as pretty a port of Pensioners.

_Alin._ Vain-glory would seek more, and handsomer. But I appeal to vertue what my end is; [_Ex. Beggers._ What men are these?

_Jul._ It seems they are holy Pilgrims: That handsome youth should suffer such a penance, Would I were even the Saint they make their vowes to, How easily I would grant!

_Pil._ Heavens grace in-wheel ye: And all good thoughts, and prayers dwell about ye, Abundance be your friend; and holy charity Be ever at your hand to crown ye glorious.

_Alin._ I thank ye, Sir; peace guide your travels too, And what you wish for most, end all your troubles; Remember me by this: and in your prayers When your strong heart melts, meditate my poor fortunes.

_Pil._ All my Devotions wait upon your service.

_Alin._ Are you of this Country, Sir?

_Pil._ Yes, worthiest Lady, But far off bred; my Fortunes farther from me.

_Alin._ Gentle, I dare believe.

_Pil._ I have liv'd freer.

_Alin._ I am no inquisitor, that were too curious; Whatever Vow, or Penance pulls you on, Sir; Conscience, or Love, or stubborn Disobedience, The Saint ye kneel to, hear, and ease your travels.

_Pil._ Yours ne'r begin; and thus I seal my Prayers. [_Exit._

_Alin._ How constantly this man looks! how he sighs! Some great affliction hatches his Devotions, Right holy Sir, how young, and sweet he suffers!

_Jul._ Would I might suffer with him.

_Alin._ He turns from us; Alas, he weeps too; something presses him He would reveal, but dare not; Sir, be comforted, Ye come for that; and take it; if it be want, Sir, To me ye appear so worthy of relieving, I am your Steward; Speak, and take; he's dumb still; Now as I have a faith, this man so stirs me, His modesty makes me afraid I have trespassed.

_Jul._ Would he wou'd stir me too, I like his shape well.

_Alin._ May be he would speak alone; go off, _Juletta_, Afflicted hearts fear their own motions. Be not far off.

_Jul._ Would I were nearer to him, A young smug handsom holiness has no fellow. [_Exit._

_Al._ Why do you grieve? do you find your penance sharp? Or are the vows ye've made too mighty for ye? Does not the World allure ye to look back, And sorrow for the sweet time ye have lost? Ye are young, and fair; be not deluded, Sir, A manly made-up heart contemns these shadows, And yours appear no less, griefs for your fears, For hours ill-spent, for wrongs done rash, and rudely, For foul contempts, for faiths ill violated, Become fears well; I dare not task your goodness; And then a sorrow shews in his true glory, When the whole heart is excellently sorry, I pray ye be comforted.

_Ped._ I am, dear Lady, And such a comfort ye have cast upon me, That though I struggle with mine own cal[a]mities Too mighty, and too many for my mannage, And though, like angry waves, they curl'd upon me, Contending proudly who should first devour me, Yet I would stem their danger.

_Alin._ He speaks nobly; What do you want?

_Ped._ All that can make me happy; I want my self.

_Alin._ Your self? who rob'd ye, Pilgrim? Why does he look so constantly upon me? _I want my self_; indeed, ye holy Wanderers Are said to seek much, but to seek your selves--

_Ped._ I seek my self, and am but my selfs shadow, 'Have lost my self; and now am not so noble.

_Alin. I seek my self_; something I yet remember That bears that Motto; 'tis not he, he's younger, And far more tender; for that self-sake (Pilgrim) Be who it will, take this.

_Ped._ Your hand I dare take, That be far from me, Lady, thus I kiss it, And thus I bless it too; _Be constant fair still,_ _Be good,_ and live to be a great example. [_Exit._

_Alin._ One word more (Pilgrim) has amaz'd me strangly, _Be constant fair still_; 'tis the Posie here; And here without, _Be good_; he wept to see me. _Juletta._

_Enter_ Juletta.

_Jul._ Madam.

_Alin._ Take this Key, and fetch me The marygold-Jewel that lies in my little Cabinet; I think 'tis that; what eyes had I to miss him? [_Ex._ Jul. O me, what thoughts? he had no beard then, and As I remember well, he was more ruddy.

_Enter_ Juletta.

If this be he, he has a manly face yet, A goodly shape.

_Jul._ Here Madam.

_Alin._ Let me see it; 'Tis so true, it must be he, or nothing, He spake the words just as they stand engraven here: I seek my self, and am but my selfs shadow; Alas, poor man! didst thou not meet him, _Juletta_? The Pilgrim, Wench?

_Jul._ He went by long ago, Madam.

_Alin._ I forgot to give him something.

_Jul._ 'Twas ill done, Lady; For o' my troth, he is the handsomest man I saw this many a day; would he had all my wealth, And me to boot; what ails she to grow so sullen?

_Alin._ Come, I forgot, but I will recompence it. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Secundus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Alphonso, Curio, Seberto, Juletta, _Porter, and_ _Servants._

_Alph._ Can she slip through a Cat-hole? tell me that; resolve me; Can she flye in the air? is she a thing invisible? Gone, and none know it!

_Seb._ You amaze your servants.

_Alph._ Some pelting Rogue has watcht her hour of itching, And claw'd her, claw'd her, do you mark me? claw'd her; Some that I foster up.

_Cur._ They are all here, Sir.

_Alph._ Let 'em be where they will, they are arrant Rascals, And by this hand, I'll hang all.

_Seb._ Deal calmly; You will not give 'em time to answer ye.

_Al._ I'll choak 'em, famish 'em, what say you, Wagtail? You knew her mind; you were of counsel with her, Tell me, and tell me true.

_Cur._ Ask with discretion.

_Alph._ Discretion? hang discretion, hang ye all: Let me know where she is.

_Jul._ Would you know o' me, Sir?

_Al._ O' thee, Sir? I, o' thee, Sir; what art thou Sir?

_Jul._ Her woman, Sir, and't like your Worship, Sir.

_Alph._ Her Bawd, her Fiddle-stick; Her Lady-fairy, to oyl the doors o' nights, That they may open with discretion, Her Gin, her Nut-Crack.

_Jul._ 'Tis very well, Sir.

_Alph._ Thou lyest; 'tis damnable ill, 'tis most abominable; Will ye confess (Thing?)

_Jul._ Say I were guilty, Sir; I would be hang'd before I would confess; Is this a World to confess in?

_Cur._ Deal directly.

_Jul._ Yes, if my matter lye direct before me; But when I am forc'd, and ferretted.

_Alph._ Tell me the truth, And as I live, I'll give thee a new Petticoat.

_Jul._ And you would give me ten, I would not tell ye, Truths bear a greater price than you are aware of.

_Seb._ Deal modestly.

_Jul._ I do not pluck my Cloaths up.

_Al._ What say you, Sirrah? you? or you? are ye dumb all?

_Port._ I saw her last night, and't shall like your Worship, When I serv'd in her Livery.

_Alph._ What's that, Sirrah?

_Port._ Her Chamber-pot, and't please you.

_Seb._ A new Livery.

_Alph._ Where lay she? who lay with her?

_Port._ In truth, not I, Sir; I lay with my fellow _Frederick_ in the flea-Chamber, And't like your Worship, we are almost worried.

_Jul._ I left her by her self, in her own Closet, And there I thought she had slept.

_Alph._ Why lay you from her?

_Jul._ It was her will I should; she is my Mistriss, And my part is obedience.

_Alph._ Were all the doors lock'd?

_Port._ All mine.

_Ser._ And mine; she could not get out those ways Unless she leapt the walls; and those are higher Than any Womans courage dare aspire at.

_Alph._ Come, you must know.

_Cur._ Conceal it not, but deal plain.

_Jul._ If I did know, and her trust lay upon me, Not all your angers nor your flatteries Should make me speak, but having no more interest Than I may well deliver to the air, I'll tell ye what I know, and tell it liberally, I think she is gone, because we cannot find her; I think she is weary of your tyranny, And therefore gone; may be she is in love; May be in love, where you show no great liking, And therefore gone; May be some point of Conscience, Or vow'd Devotion.

_Alph._ These are nothing, minion; You that can aim at these, must know the truth too.

_Jul._ Any more truth than this if I know, hang me, Or where to search for it, if I make a lye To gain your love, and envy my best Mistriss, Pin me against a wall with my heels upward.

_Alph._ Out of my doors.

_Jul._ That's all my poor petition; For if your house were Gold, and she not in it, Sir, I should count it but a Cage to whistle in.

_Alph._ Whore, if she be above ground, I will have her.

_Jul._ I would live in a Coal-pit then, were I your daughter.

_Seb._ Certain she does not know, Sir.

_Alph._ Hang her, hang her; She knows too much; search all the house, all corners, And where 'tis possible she may go out, [_Ex. Servants._ If I do find your tricks.

_Jul._ Reward me for 'em. Or if I had such tricks, you could discover So weak, and sleightly woven, you might look through, All the young Girls should hoot me out o' th' Parish; You are my Master, but you own an anger Becomes a School-Boy that hath lost his Apples; Will ye force things into our knowledges?

_Alph._ Come hither, _Juletta_, thou didst love me.

_Jul._ And do stil[l], You are my Ladies Father, and I reverence ye.

_Alph._ Thou would'st have pleas'd my humour.

_Jul._ Any good way, That carried not suspicion in't, or flattery, Or fail of trust.

_Alph._ Come, come, thou wouldst have--

_Jul._ Stay, Sir.

_Alph._ And thou hast felt my bounty for't, and shalt do. Dost thou want Cloaths or Money?

_Jul._ Both.

_Alph._ 'Shalt have both.

_Jul._ But not this way, I had rather be an Adamite, And bring Fig-tree leaves into fashion again. If you were young, Sir, Handsome, and fitted to a Womans appetite; And I a giddy-headed Girl, that car'd for nothing, Much might be done; then you might fumble with me, And think to grope out matters of some moment, Which now you will put too short for; For what you have seen hitherto And know by me, has been but honest service, Which I dare pin i'th' market-place to answer; And let the World, the Flesh, and Devil examine it, And come you in too, I dare stand your strictest. And so much good may do you, with your dreams of courtesie.

_Alph._ This is most monstrous.

_Enter Porter, and Servants._

_Seb._ Sure she does not know, Sir; She durst not be so confident, and guilty.

_Alph._ How now, what news? what hopes and steps discovered? Speak any thing that's good, that tends to th' matter; Do you stand staring still?

_1 Serv._ We are no gods, Sir, To say she is here or there, or what she is doing; But we have search'd.

_Port._ I am sure she is not i'th' Cellar; For look you, Sir, if she had been i'th' Cellar--

_Alph._ I am sure thou hast been there.

_Port._ As I carried the matter, For I search'd every piece of Wine; yes sure, Sir, And every little Terse, that could but testifie; And I drew hard to bolt her out.

_Alph._ Away with him; Fling him i'th' Hay-mow, let him lye a mellowing; He stinks of Muskadel like an _English Christmas_; Are these your cares? your services?

_2 Serv._ Pray ye hear, Sir, We have found where she went out, her very footing.

_Alph._ Where, where? go on.

_Cur._ Observe then with more stayedness.

_2 Ser._ Searching the Garden at the little Postern That opens to the Park, we first discovered it.

_Alph._ A little foot?

_1 Serv._ It must be hers, or none, Sir.

_Alph._ How far beyond that?

_1 Serv._ To the Park it leads us, But there the ground being hard, we could not mark it.

_Alph._ She always kept that Key; I was a Coxcomb, A Fool, an Ass, to give a Girl that liberty; Saddle my Horses, Rogues, ye drunken Varlets, Your precious diligence lies in Pint-pots, Your Brains in Butts, my Horses, ye pin-Buttocks. You'll bear me Company?

_Seb._ We dare not leave ye, Unless we found a quieter soul within ye.

_Cur._ If we may do the Lady any service, Sweet, gentle Soul.

_Alph._ I say again, my horses, Are ye so hot? have ye your private Pilgrimages? Must ye be jumping, Joan? I'll wander with ye; I'll jump ye, and I'll juggle ye, my horses; And keep me this young Lirry-poop within doors, I will discover, Dame.

_Jul._ 'Tis fit you should, Sir, If ye knew what; well Love, if thou beest with her, Or what power else that arms her resolution, Conduct her fair, and keep her from this mad-man, Direct her to her wishes; dwell about her, That no dishonourable end o'rtake her, Danger, or want; and let me try my fortune.

_Alph._ You know the place we meet in?

_Seb._ We shall hit it.

_Alph._ And as ye are honest Gentlemen, endeavour.

_Cur._ We'l search the best we can; if she light in our hands.

_Alph._ I'll tye her to the horse-tail.

_Seb._ We know how to use her, But not your way, for all your state.

_Alph._ Make haste there; And get you in, and look to th' house. If you stir out, Damsel, Or set a foot any new motion this way, When I come home (which will be suddenly) You know my mind; if you do play the Rascal, I have my eyes and ears in sundry places, If ye do praunce.

_Jul._ I shall do that that's fit, Sir; And fit to cross your fooleries; I'll fail else: And so I'll to my Chamber. [_Exit._

_Alph._ To your Prayers, And leave your stubborn tricks; she is not far yet, She cannot be, and we dividing suddenly.

_Cur._ Keep her from thy hands, I beseech.

_Alph._ Our horses; Come chearfully. I'll teach her to run gadding. [_Exeunt._