SCENE IV.

_Enter_ Angelo.

_Ang._ I cannot keep from this ungodly woman, This _Lelia_, whom I know too, yet am caught, Her looks are nothing like her; would her faults Were all in _Paris_ print upon her face, _Cum Privilegio_, to use 'em still, I would write an Epistle before it, on the inside of her masque And dedicate it to the whore of _Babylon_, with a preface upon Her nose to the gentle Reader; and they should be to be sold At the sign of the whores head i'th' pottage pot, in what Street you please. But all this helps not me;--I Am made to be thus catch'd, past any redress, with a thing I contemn too. I have read _Epictetus_ twice over against the Desire of these outward things, and still her face runs in My mind, I went to say my prayers, and they were So laid out o'th' way, that if I could find any prayers I Had, I'm no Christian, This is the door, and the short Is, I must see her again.-- [_He knocks._

_Enter Maid._

_Maid._ Who's there?

_Ang._ 'Tis I, I would speak with your Mistriss.

_Maid._ Did she send for you?

_Ang._ No, what then? I would see her, prethee by thy leave.

_Maid._ Not by my leave; for she will not see you, but doth hate you, and Your friend, and doth wish you both hang'd, which being so proper Men, is great pity, that you are not.

_Ang._ How's this?

_Maid._ For your sweet self in particular, who she resolves perswaded your Friend to neglect her, she deemeth whip-cord the most Convenient unction for your back and shoulders.

_Ang._ Let me in, I'le satisfie her.

_Ma._ And if it shall happen that you are in doubt of these my speeches, Insomuch that you shall spend more time in arguing at the Door, I am fully perswaded that my Mistris in person from Above, will utter her mind more at large by way of Urine upon your head, that it may sink the more soundly Into your understanding faculties.

_Ang._ This is the strangest thing, good pretty soul, why dost thou use me so? I pray thee let me in sweet-heart.

_Maid._ Indeed I cannot sweet-heart.

_Ang._ Thou art a handsom one, and this crosseness do's not become thee.

_Maid._ Alas I cannot help it.

_Ang._ Especially to me; thou knowst when I was here, I said I lik'd thee of All thy Mistriss Servants.

_Maid._ So did I you, though it be not my fortune to express It at this present: for truly if you would cry, I cannot Let you in.

_Ang._ Pox on her, I must go the down-right way: look you Here is ten pound for you, let me speak with her.

_Maid._ I like your gold well, but it is a thing by heaven I cannot do, she Will not speak with you, especially at this time, she has affairs.

_Ang._ This makes her leave her jesting yet, but take it And let me see her, bring me to a place Where undiscerned of her self I may Feed my desiring eyes but half an hour.

_Maid._ Why faith I think I can, and I will stretch my wits And body too for gold: if you will swear as you Are gentle, not to stir, or speak, where you shall See or hear, now, or hereafter: give me your gold, I'le plant you.

_Ang._ Why, as I am a Gentleman, I will not.

_Maid._ Enough, quick, follow me. [_Ex._ Angelo, _and Maid_.

_Enter Servant_.

_S._ Why where's this maid, she has much care of her business, _Nell_? I think she be sunk;--why _Nell_--whiew--

_Maid within._ What's the matter?

_Enter Maid._

_Ser._ I pray you heartily, come away, oh, come, come, the Gentleman My Mistris invited, is coming down the street, and the banquet Not yet brought out?-- [_They bring in the Banquet._

_Lel. within._ Nell, Sirrah.

_Maid._ I come forsooth.

_Ser._ Now must I walk: when there's any fleshly matters in hand, my Mistris sends me of a four hours errand: but if I go not About mine own bodily business as well as she, I am a Turk.

[_Exit Servant._

_Enter_ Father.

_Fa._ What, all wide open? 'Tis the way to sin Doubtless; but I must on; the gates of Hell Are not more passable than these; how they Will be to get out, God knows, I must try. 'Tis very strange, if there be any life Within this house, would it would shew it self. What's here? a Banquet? and no mouth to eat, Or bid me do it? this is something like The entertainment of adventurous Knights Entring enchanted Castles: For the manner Though there be nothing dismal to be seen Amazes me a little; what is meant By this strange invitation? I will sound My Daughters meaning e're I speak to her, If it be possible, for by my voyce-- [_Musique._ She will discover me! hark, whence is this.

The SONG.

_Come hither you that love, and hear me sing_ _of joyes still growing_ _Green, fresh, and lusty, as the pride of Spring,_ _and ever blowing._

_Come hither youths that blush, and dare not know_ _what is desire,_ _And old men worse than you, that cannot blow_ _one spark of fire._ _And with the power of my enchanting Song,_ _Boyes shall be able men, and old men young._

_Enter_ Angelo, _above_.

_Come hither you that hope, and you that cry,_ _leave off complaining,_ _Youth, strength, and beauty, that shall never dye,_ _are here remaining._ _Come hither fools, and blush, you stay so long_ _from being blest,_ _And mad men worse than you, that suffer wrong,_ _Yet seek no rest._ _And in an hour, with my enchanting Song,_ _You shall be ever pleas'd, and young maids long._

_Enter_ Lelia, _and her Maid with a Night-gown and_ _Slippers_.

_Lel._ Sir you are welcom hither, as this kiss Given with a larger freedom than the use Of strangers will admit, shall witness to you. Put the gown on him, in this chair sit down; Give him his slippers: be not so amaz'd, Here's to your health, and you shall feel this wine Stir lively in me, in the dead of night, Give him some wine; fall to your banquet Sir, And let us grow in mirth; though I am set Now thus far off you, yet four glasses hence I will sit here, And try, till both our bloods Shoot up and down to find a passage out, Then mouth to mouth will we walk up to bed, And undress one another as we go; Where both my treasure, body, and my soul Are your's to be dispos'd of.

_Fa._ Umh, umh.--_Makes signs of his white head & [b]eard._

_Lel._ You are old, Is that your meaning? why, you are to me The greater novelty, all our fresh youth Are daily offer'd me, though you perform As you think little, yet you satisfie My appetite: from your experience I may learn something in the way of lust I may be better for. But I can teach These young ones; But this day I did refuse A paire of 'em, _Julio_, and _Angelo_, And told them they were as they were Raw fools and whelps. [Ang. _makes discontented signs_.

[Sidenote: _Maid laies her finger cross_ _her mouth to him._]

_Maid._ Pray God he speak not.

_Lel._ Why speak you not sweet sir?

_Fath._ Umh.--

[_Stops his ears, shews he is troubled with the Musick._

_Lel._ Peace there, that musique, now Sir speak To me.

_Fath._ Umh.-- [_Points at the Maid._

_Lel._ Why? would you have her gone? you need not keep Your freedom in for her; she knows my life That she might write it; Think she is a stone. She is a kind of bawdy Confessor, And will not utter secrets.

_Fath._ Umh.-- [_Points at her again._

_Lel._ Be gone then, since he needs will have it so, 'Tis all one. [_Exit Maid.--Fath. locks the door._ Is all now as you would? come meet me then, And bring a thousand kisses on thy lips, And I will rob thee of 'em, and yet leave Thy lips as wealthy as they were before.

_Fath._ Yes, all is as I would but thou.

_Lel._ By Heaven 'tis my Father.-- [_Starts._

_Fath._ And I do beseech thee Leave these unheard of lusts which worse become thee, Than mocking of thy Father; let thine eyes Reflect upon thy soul, and there behold How loathed black it is; and whereas now Thy face is heavenly fair, but thy mind foul, Go but into thy Closet, and there cry Till thou hast spoil'd that face, and thou shalt find How excellent a change thou wilt have made For inward beauty.

_Lel._ Though I know him now To be my Father, never let me live If my lust do abate, I'le take upon me To have known him all this while.

_Fath._ Look, dost thou know me?

_Lel._ I knew ye Sir before.

_Fath._ What didst thou do?

_Lel._ Knew you, and so unmov'dly have you born All the sad crosses that I laid upon you, With such a noble temper, which indeed I purposely cast on you, to discern Your carriage in calamity, and you Have undergone 'em with that brave contempt, That I have turn'd the reverence of a child Into the hot affection of a Lover. Nor can there on the earth be found but yours A spirit fit to meet with mine.

_Fath._ A woman? thou art not sure.

_Lel._ Look and believe.

_Fath._ Thou art Something created to succeed the Devil When he grows weary of his envious course, And compassing the World; but I believe thee Thou didst but mean to try my patience, And dost so still; but better be advis'd, And make thy tryal with some other things, That safelier will admit a dalliance; And if it should be earnest, understand How curst thou art, so far from Heaven, That thou believ'st it not enough to damn alone, Or with a stranger, but wouldst heap all sins Unnatural upon this aged head, And draw thy Father to thy Bed, and Hell.

_Lel._ You are deceiv'd, Sir, 'tis not against nature For us to lye together; if you have An Arrow of the same Tree with your Bow, Is't more unnatural to shoot it there Than in another? 'Tis our general nature To procreate, as fire is to consume, And it will trouble you to find a stick The fire will turn from; If't be Natures will We should not mix, she will discover to us Some most apparent crossness, as our organs Will not be fit; which, if we do perceive, We'll leave, and think it is her pleasure That we should deal with others.

_Fath._ The doors are fast, thou shalt not say a Prayer, 'Tis not Heavens will thou shouldst; when this is done I'll kill my self, that never man may tell me I got thee.

[_Father draws his Sword_, Angelo _discovers himself_.

_Lel._ I pray you, Sir, help her, for Heavens sake, Sir.

_Ang._ Hold, Reverend Sir, for honour of your Age.

_Fath._ Who's that?

_Ang._ For safety of your Soul, and of the Soul Of that too-wicked woman yet to dye.

_Fath._ What art thou? and how cam'st thou to that place?

_Ang._ I am a man so strangely hither come, That I have broke an Oath in speaking this, But I believe 'twas better broke than kept, And I desire your patience; let me in, And I protest I will not hinder you In any act you wish, more than by word, If so I can perswade you, that I will not Use violence, I'll throw my Sword down to you; This house holds none but I, only a maid Whom I will lock fast in as I come down.

_Fath._ I do not know thee, but thy tongue doth seem To be acquainted with the truth so well, That I will let thee in; throw down thy Sword.

_Ang._ There 'tis.

_Lel._ How came he there? I am betray'd to shame, The fear of sudden death struck me all over So violently, that I scarce have breath

[_He lets in_ Angelo, _and locks the Door_.

To speak yet; but I have it in my head, And out it shall, that (Father) may perhaps O'r-reach you yet.

_Enter Father, and_ Angelo.

_Fath._ Come, Sir, what is't you say?

_Lel._ My _Angelo_, by all the joys of love, Thou art as welcome as these pliant arms Twin'd round, and fast about thee, can perswade thee.

_Ang._ Away.

_Lel._ I was in such a fright before thou cam'st, Yond' old mad fellow (it will make thee laugh, Though it feared me) has talkt so wildly here-- Sirrah, he rush'd in at my doors, and swore He was my Father, and I think believ'd it; But that he had a Sword, and threatned me-- I' faith he was good sport, good, thrust him out, That thou and I may kiss together; wilt thou?

_Fath._ Are you her Champion? and with these fair words Got in to rescue her from me? [_Offers to run at him._

_Ang._ Hold, Sir, I swear I do not harbour such a thought, I speak it not, for that you have two Swords, But for 'tis truth.

_Lel._ Two Swords, my _Angelo_? Think this, that thou hast two young brawny arms And ne'r a Sword, and he has two good Swords, And ne'r an arm to use 'em; rush upon him, I could have beaten him with this weak Body, If I had had the spirit of a man.

_Ang._ Stand from me, and leave talking, or, by Heaven, I'll trample thy last damning word out of thee.

_Fath._ Why do you hinder me then? stand away, And I will rid her quickly.

_Lel._ Would I were Clear of this business, yet I cannot pray.

_Ang._ Oh, be advis'd, why you were better kill her If she were good, convey her from this place, Where none but you, and such as you appoint, May visit her; where, let her hear of nought But death and damning, which she hath deserv'd, Till she be truly, justly sorrowful, And then lay mercy to her, who does know But she may mend?

_Fath._ But whither should I bear her?

_Ang._ To my house, 'Tis large, and private, I will lend it you.

_Fath._ I thank you, Sir, and happily it fits With some design I have: but how shall we Convey her?

_Lel._ Will they carry me away?

_Fath._ For she will scratch and kick, and scream so loud That people will be drawn to rescue her.

_Ang._ Why? none can hear her here but her own maid, Who is as fast as she.

_Fath._ But in the street?

_Ang._ Why, we will take 'em both into the Kitchen, There bind 'em, and then gag 'em, and then throw 'em Into a Coach I'll bring to the back-door, And hurry 'em away.

_Fath._ It shall be so, I owe you much for this, and I may pay you, There is your Sword, lay hold upon her quickly, This way with me, thou disobedient Child, Why does thy stubborn heart beat at thy breast? Let it be still, for I will have it search'd Till I have found a Well of living tears Within it, that shall spring out of thine eyes, And flow all o'r thy Body foul'd with sin, Till it have wash'd it quite without a stain. [_They drag her._

_Lel._ Help, help, ah! ah! Murther, I shall be murthered, I shall be murthered.

_Fath._ This helps thee not.

_Lel._ Basely murthered, basely.

_Fath._ I warrant you. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Lodowick, _and_ Piso.

_Lod._ This roguey Captain has made fine work with us.

_Pis._ I would the Devil in a storm would carry him Home to his Garrison again; I ake all over, That I am sure of; certainly my Body Is of a wild-fire, for my head rings backward, Or else I have a morise in my brains.

_Lod._ I'll deal no more with Souldiers; well remembred, Did not the Vision promise to appear About this time again?

_Pis._ Yes, here he comes; He's just on's word.

_Enter Father_.

_Fath._ O, they be here together, She's penitent, and by my troth I stagger Whether (as now she is) either of these Two fools be worthy of her; yet because Her youth is prone to fall again, ungovern'd, And marriage now may stay her, one of 'em; And _Piso_, since I understand him abler, Shall be the man; the other bear the charges, And willingly, as I will handle it. I have a Ring here, which he shall believe Is sent him from a woman I have thought of; But e're I leave it, I'll have one of his In pawn worth two on't; for I will not lose By such a mess of sugar-sops as this is: I am too old.

_Lod._ It moves again, let's meet it.

_Fath._ Now if I be not out, we shall have fine sport, I am glad I have met you, Sir, so happily, You do remember me I am sure.

_Lod._ I do, Sir.

_Pis._ This is a short præludium to a challenge.

_Fa._ I have a message, Sir, that much concerns you, And for your special good; nay, you may hear too.

_Pis._ What should this fellow mean?

_Fath._ There is a Lady, (How the poor thing begins to warm already) Come to this town, (as yet a stranger here, Sir) Fair, young, and rich, both in possessions, And all the graces that make up a Woman, A Widow, and a vertuous one; it works, He needs no broth upon't.

_Lod._ What of her, Sir?

_Fath._ No more but this; she loves you.

_Lod._ Loves me?

_Fath._ Yes, And with a strong affection, but a fair one, If ye be wise and thankful ye are made; there's the whole matter.

_Lod._ I am sure I hear this.

_Fath._ Here is a Ring, Sir, of no little value; Which after she had seen you at a window, She bad me haste, and give it, when she blush'd Like a blown Rose.

_Lod._ But pray, Sir, by your leave--Methinks your years should promise no ill meaning.

_Fath._ I am no Bawd, nor Cheater, nor a Courser Of broken-winded women; if you fear me, I'll take my leave, and let my Lady use A fellow of more form; an honester I am sure she cannot.

_Lod._ Stay, you have confirm'd me, Yet let me feel; you are in health?

_Fath._ I hope so, My water's well enough, and my pulse.

_Lod._ Then All may be excellent; pray pardon me, For I am like a Boy that had found money, Afraid I dream still.

_Pis._ Sir, what kind of woman? Of what proportion is your Lady?

_Lod._ I.

_Fath._ I'll tell you presently her very Picture, Do you know a woman in this town they call (Stay, yes, it is so) _Leila_?

_Piso._ Not by sight.

_Fath._ Nor you, Sir?

_Lod._ Neither.

_Fath._ These are precious Rogues To rail upon a woman they never saw; So they would use their Kindred.

_Pis._ We have heard though She is very fair and goodly.

_Fath._ Such another, Just of the same Complexion, making, speech, But a thought sweeter is my Lady.

_Lod._ Then She must be excellent indeed.

_Fath._ Indeed she is, And you will find it so; you do believe me?

_Lod._ Yes marry do I, and I am so alter'd--

_Fath._ Your happiness will alter any man: Do not delay the time, Sir; at a house Where _Don Valasco_ lay, the Spanish Seignior (Which now is Seignior _Angelo's_) she is.

_Lod._ I know it.

[_Fath._] But before you shew your self, Let it be night by all means, willingly By day she would not have such Gallants seen Repair unto her, 'tis her modesty.

_Lod._ I'll go and fit my self.

_Fath._ Do, and be sure You send provision in, in full abundance, Fit for the Marriage; for this night I know She will be yours, Sir, have you never a token Of worth to send her back again? you must, She will expect it.

_Lod._ Yes, pray give her this. And with it all I have; I am made for ever. [_Exit_ Lod.

_Pis._ Well, thou hast fools luck; should I live as long As an old Oak, and say my prayers hourly, I should not be the better of a penny; I think the Devil be my ghostly father; Upon my conscience I am full as handsome, I am sure I have more wit, and more performance, Which is a pretty matter.

_Fath._ Do you think, Sir, That your friend, Seignior _Piso_, will be constant Unto my Lady? you should know him well.

_Piso._ Who? Seignior _Piso_?

_Fath._ Yes, the Gentleman.

_Piso._ Why, you are wide, Sir.

_Fath._ Is not his name _Piso_?

_Piso._ No, mine is _Piso_.

_Fath._ How?

_Piso._ 'Tis indeed, Sir, And his is _Lodowick_.

_Fath._ Then I am undone, Sir, For I was sent at first to _Piso_; what a Rascal Was I, so ignorantly to mistake you?

_Piso._ Peace, There is no harm done yet.

_Fath._ Now 'tis too late, I know my errour; At turning of a Street, For you were then upon the right hand of him, You chang'd your places suddenly; where I (Like a cross block-head) lost my memory; What shall I do? my Lady utterly Will put me from her favour.

_Piso._ Never fear it, I'll be thy guard I warrant thee; O, O, Am I at length reputed? for the Ring, I'll fetch it back with a light vengeance from him; H'ad better keep tame Devils than that Ring; Art thou not Steward?

_Fath._ No.

_Pis._ Thou shalt be shortly.

_Fath._ Lord, how he takes it!

_Piso._ I'll go shift me streight; Art t' sure [it] was to _Piso_?

_Fath._ O, too sure, Sir.

_Piso._ I'll mount thee if I live for't, Give me patience, heav'n, to bear this blessing I beseech thee; I am but man, I prithee break my head To make me understand I am sensible.

_Fath._ Lend me your Dagger, and I will, Sir.

_Piso._ No. I believe now like a good Christian.

_Fath._ Good Sir, make hast; I dare not go without ye Since I have so mistaken.

_Piso._ 'Tis no matter, Meet me within this half hour at St. _Marg'rets_. Well, go thy ways, old Lad, thou hast the trick on't.

[_Exit_ Piso.

_Enter_ Angelo, _and_ Julio.

_Ang._ How now? the news?

_Fath._ Well, passing well, I have 'em, Both in a leash, and made right for my purpose.

_Jul._ I am glad on't, I must leave you.

_Ang._ Whither man?

_Jul._ If all go right I may be fast enough too.

_Ang._ I cry you mercy, Sir, I know your meaning,

_Clora's_ the woman, she's _Frank's_ Bedfellow, Commend me to 'em, go, _Julio_, Bring 'em to supper all, to grace this matter; They will serve for witnesses.

_Jul._ I will, farewel.

[_Exit_ Julio _at one door, and_ Ang. _and_ Fath. _at another_.