Part 5

_Jul._ How would thine eyes have emptied thee in sorrow, And left the Conduit of nature drie? Thy hands have turn'd rebellious to the balls, And broke the glasses, with thine own curses Have torn thy soul, left thee a Statue To propagate thy next posterity.

_Bel._ Yes, and thou causer: so it said to me, They fight but your mischiefs: the young men were friends, As is the life and blood coagulate And curded in one body; but this is yours, An inheritance that you have gather'd for 'em, A Legacie of blood to kill each other Throughout your Generations. Was't not so?

_Jul._ Word for word.

_Bel._ Nay, I can go farther yet.

_Jul._ 'Tis far enough; Let us attone it here. And in a reconciled circle fold Our friendship new again.

_Bel._ The sign's in _Gemini_, An auspicious house, 't has join'd both ours again.

_Jul._ You cannot proclaim me coward now, Don _Bellides_.

_Bel._ No: thou 'rt a valiant fellow: so am I: I'll fight with thee at this hug, to the last leg I have to stand on, or breath or life left.

_Jul._ This is the salt unto humanity, And keeps it sweet.

_Bel._ Love! oh life stinks without it. I can tell you news.

_Jul._ Good has long been wanting.

_Bel._ I do suspect, and I have some proof on't, (So far as a Love-Epistle comes to) That _Antonio_ (your Nephew) and my daughter _Ismenia_ are very good friends before us.

_Jul._ That were a double wall about our houses, Which I could wish were built.

_Bel._ I had it From _Antonio_'s Intimate, Don _Martin_: And yet (me thought) it was no friendly part To show it me.

_Jul._ Perhaps 't was his consent: Lovers have policies as well as Statesmen: They look not always at the mark they aim at.

_Bel._ Wee'll take up cudgels, and have one bowt with 'em, They shall know nothing of this union: And till they find themselves most desperate, Succor shall never see 'em.

_Jul._ I'll take your part Sir.

_Bel._ It grows late; there's a happy day past us.

_Jul._ The example I hope to all behind it. [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Tertia._

_Enter_ Aminta _(above) with a Taper_.

_Am._ Stand fair, light of Love, which epithite and place Adds to thee honour, to me it would be shame, We must be weight in love, no grain too light; Thou art the Land-mark, but if love be blind, (As many that can see have so reported) What benefit canst thou be to his darkness? Love is a jewel (some say) inestimable, But hung at the ear, deprives our own sight, And so it shines to others, not our selves. I speak my skill, I have only heard on't, But I could wish a nearer document, Alass, the ignorant desire to know: Some say Love's but a toy, and with a but. Now methinks I should love it ne'er the worse, A toy is harmless sure, and may be plaid with, It seldome goes without his adjunct, pretty, A pretty toy we say, 'tis meeter to joy too. Well, here may be a mad night yet for all this, Here's a Priest ready, and a Lady ready: A chamber ready, and a bed ready, 'Tis then but making unready, and that's soon done: My Lady is my Cosen; I, my self, Which is nearest then? My desires are mine, Say they be hers too, is't a hanging matter? It may be ventur'd in a worser cause, I must go question with my conscience: I have the word; Centinel, do thou stand, Thou shalt not need to call, I'll be at hand. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Antonio _and_ Martin.

_Ant._ Are we not dog'd behind us, thinkst thou friend?

_Mar._ I heard not one bark, Sir.

_Ant._ There are that bite And bark not (man:) me-thought I spy'd two fellows That through two streets together walk'd aloof, And wore their eyes suspiciously upon us.

_Mar._ Your Jealousie, nothing else; or such perhaps As are afraid as much of us, who knows But about the like business? but for your fears sake I'll advise and intreat one curtesie.

_Ant._ What's that friend?

_Mar._ I will not be denyed, Sir, Change your upper garments with me.

_Ant._ It needs not.

_Mar._ I think so too, but I will have it so, If you dare trust me with the better Sir.

_Ant._ Nay then.

_Mar._ If there should be danger towards, There will be the main mark I'm sure.

_Ant._ Here thou tak'st from me.

_Mar._ Tush, the General Must be safe, how ere the Battle goes: See you the Beacon yonder?

_Ant._ Yes, we are near shore.

_Enter 2. Gentlemen with weapons drawn, they set upon_ Martin: Antonio _pursues them out in rescue of_ Martin.

_Mar._ Come, Land, land, you must clamber by the cliffe, Here are no stairs to rise by.

_Ant._ I are you there? [_fight and Exeunt._

_Enter_ Aminta _above, and_ Martin _return'd again ascends_.

_Am. Antonio?_

_Mar._ Yes _Ismenia_.

_Am._ Thine own.

_Mar._ Quench the light, thine eyes are guides illustrious.

_Am._ 'Tis necessary. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Antonio.

[_Ant._] Your legs have sav'd your lives, who ere you are, Friend. _Martin?_ where art thou? not hurt I hope: Sure I was farthest in the pursuit of 'em: My pleasures are forgotten through my fears: The lights extinct, it was discreetly done: They could not but have notice of the broil, And fearing that might call up company, Have carefully prevented, and closed up: I do commend the heed; oh, but my friend, I fear his hurt: friend? friend? it cannot be So mortal, that I should lose thee quite, friend? A groan, any thing that may discover thee: Thou art not sunk so far, but I might hear thee: I'll lay mine ear as low as thou canst fall: Friend, Don _Martin_, I must answer for thee, 'Twas in my cause thou fe[ll]'st, if thou be'st down, Such dangers stand betwixt us and our joyes, That should we forethink ere we undertake, Wee'ld sit at home, and save. What a night's here! Purpos'd for so much joy, and now dispos'd To so much wretchedness! I shall not rest in't: If I had all my pleasures there within, I should not entertain 'em with a smile. Good night to you: Mine will be black and sad, A friend cannot, a woman may be bad. [_Exit._

_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Ismenia _and_ Aminta.

_Ism._ O thou false.

_Am._ Do your daringst, he's mine own, Soul and body mine, church and chamber mine, Totally mine.

_Ism._ Dar'st thou face thy falshood?

_Am._ Shall I not give a welcome to my wishes Come home so sweetly: farewell your company Till you be calmer woman. [_Exit._

_Ism._ Oh what a heap Of misery has one night brought with it.

_Enter_ Antonio.

_Ant._ Where is he? do you turn your shame from me? You'r a blind Adulteress, you know you are.

_Ism._ How's that _Antonio_?

_Ant._ Till I have vengeance, Your sin's not pardonable: I'll have him, If hell hide him not: y'have had your last of him. [_Exit._

_Ism._ What did he speak? I understood him not, He call'd me a foul name, it was not mine, He took me for another sure.

_Enter Bellides._

_Bell._ Ha? are you there? Where's your sweet heart? I have found you Traytor To my house: wilt league with mine enemy? You'll shed his blood, you'll say: hah? will you so? And fight with your heels upwards? No Minion, I have a husband for you, since y'are so rank, And such a husband as thou shalt like him, Whether thou wilt or no: _Antonio_?

_Ism._ It thunders with the storm now.

_Bel._ And to night I'll have it dispatch'd: I'll make it sure, I, By to morrow this time thy Maiden-head Shall not be worth a Chicken, if it were Knockt at an out-cry: go, I'll ha'ye before me: Shough, shough, up to your coop, Pea-Hen.

_Ism._ Then I'll try my wings. [_Exit._

_Bel._ I, are you good at that? stop, stop thief, stop there. [_Exit._

_Scæna Secunda._

_Enter_ Otrante _and_ Florimell _singing_.

1. SONG.

Flo. _Now having leisure, and a happy wind,_ _Thou mayst at pleasure cause the stones to grind,_ _Sayls spread, and grist here ready to be ground,_ _Fie, stand not idlely, but let the Mill go round._

_Otr._ Why dost thou sing and dance thus? why so merry? Why dost thou look so wantonly upon me? And kiss my hands?

_Flo._ If I were high enough, I would kiss your lips too.

_Otr._ Do, this is some kindness, This tastes of willingness, nay, you may kiss Still, but why o'th' sudden now does the fit take ye, Unoffer'd, or uncompell'd? why these sweet curtesies? Even now you would have blush'd to death to kiss thus: Prethee let me be prepar'd to meet thy kindness, I shall be unfurnish'd else to hold thee play, wench: Stay now a little, and delay your blessings; If this be love, methinks it is too violent: If you repent you of your strictness to me, It is so sudden, it wants circumstance.

_Flo._ Fy, how dull!

2. SONG.

_How long shall I pine for love?_ _how long shall I sue in vain?_ _How long like the Turtle-Dove_ _shall I heav[i]ly thus complain?_ _Shall the sayls of my love stand still?_ _Shall the grists of my hopes be unground?_ _Oh fie, oh fie, oh fie,_ _Let the Mill, let the Mill go round._

_Otr._ Prethee be calm a little, Thou mak'st me wonder, thou that wert so strange, And read such pious rules to my behavior But yesternight, thou that wert made of modesty, Shouldst in a few short minutes turn thus desperate.

_Flo._ You are too cold.

_Otr._ I do confess I freeze now, I am another thing all over me: It is my part to wooe, not to be courted: Unfold this Riddle, 'tis to me a wonder, That now [o']th' instant ere I can expect, Ere I can turn my thoughts, and think upon A separation of your honest carriage From the desires of youth, thus wantonly, Thus beyond expectation.

_Flo._ I will tell ye, And tell ye seriously, why I appear thus, To hold ye no more ignorant and blinded, I have no modestie, I am truly wanton: I am that you look for Sir; now come up roundly: If my strict face and counterfeited sta[ied]ness Could have won on ye, I had caught ye that way, And you should never have come to have known who hurt ye. Prethee (sweet Count) be more familiar with me. How ever we are open in our natures, And apt to more desires than you dare meet with, Yet we affect to lay the gloss of good on't: I saw you touch[t] not at the bait of chastity, And that it grew distasteful to your palate To appear so holy, therefore I take my true shape: Is your bed ready Sir? you shall quickly find me.

3. SONG

_On the bed lie throw thee, throw thee down;_ _Down being laid, shall we be afraid_ _To try the rights that belong to love?_ _No, no, there I'll woe thee with a Crown,_ _Crown our desires, kindle the fires,_ _When love requires we should wanton prove,_ _We'll kiss, we'll sport, we'll laugh, we'll play,_ _If thou com'st short, for thee I'll stay,_ _If thou unskilful art [the] ground,_ _I'll kindly teach, we'll have the Mill go round._

_Otr._ Are ye no Maid.

_Flo._ Alas (my Lord) no certain: I am sorry you are so innocent to think so, Is this an age for silly Maids to thrive in? It is so long too since I lost it Sir, That I have no belief I ever was one: What should you do with Maiden-heads? you hate 'em, They are peevish, pett[ish] things, that hold no game up, No pleasure neither, they are sport for Surgeons: I'll warrant you I'll fit you beyond Maiden-head: A fair and easie way men travel right in, And with delight, discourse, and twenty pleasures, They enjoy their journey; mad men creep through hedges.

_Otr._ I am metamorphos'd: why do you appear, I conjure ye, beyond belief thus wanton?

_Flo._ Because I would give ye Pleasure beyond belief.

4. SONG.

_Think me still in my Fathers Mill,_ _where I have oft been found-a_ _Thrown on my back, on a well-fill'd sack,_ _while the Mill has still gone round-a:_ _Prethe sirrah try thy skill,_ _and again let the Mill go round-a._

_Otr._ Then you have traded?

_Flo._ Traded? how should I know else how to live Sir, And how to satisfie such Lords as you are, Our best guests, and our richest?

_Otr._ How I shake now! You take no base men?

_Flo._ Any that will offer, All manner of men, and all Religions Sir, We touch at in our time: all States and Ages, We exempt none.

5. SONG.

_The young one, the old one, the fearful, the bold one,_ _the lame one, though nere so unsound,_ _The Jew or the Turk, have leave for to work,_ _the whilst that the Mill goes round._

_Otr._ You are a common thing then.

_Flo._ No matter since you have your private pleasure, And have it by an Artist excellent, Whether I am thus, or thus, your men can tell ye.

_Otr._ My Men? Defend me, how I freeze together, And am on Ice! do I bite at such an Orange After my men? I am preferr'd.

_Flo._ Why stay ye? Why do we talk my Lord, and lose our time? Pleasure was made for lips, and sweet embraces, Let Lawyers use their tongues: pardon [me] Modesty, This desperate way must help; or I am miserable.

_Otr._ She turns, and wipes her face, she weeps for certain, Some new way now, she cannot be thus beastly, She is too excellent fair to be thus impudent: She knows the elements of common looseness, The art of lewdness: that, that, that, how now, Sir?

_Enter a servant._

_Ser._ The King (and't please your Lordship) is alighted Close at the gate.

_Otr._ The King?

_Ser._ And calls for ye Sir. Means to break-fast here too.

_Flo._ Then I am happy.

_Otr._ Stol'n so suddenly? go lock her up. Lock her up where the Courtiers may not see her, Lock her up closely, sirrah, in my closet.

_Ser._ I will (my Lord) what does she yield yet? [_Exit._

_Otr._ Peace: She is either a damn'd divel, or an Angel, No noise (upon your life Dame) but all silence.

_Enter King, Lords_, Vertigo, Lisauro, Terso.

_Otr._ Your Majesty heaps too much honor on me, With such delight to view each several corner Of a rude pile: there's no proportion in't, Sir.

_Phil._ Me-thinks 'tis handsome, and the rooms along Are neat, and well contriv'd: the Gallery Stands pleasantly and sweet: what rooms are these?

_Otr._ They are sluttish ones.

_Phil._ Nay, I must see.

_Otr._ Pray ye do Sir, They are lodging-chambers over a homely garden.

_Phil._ Fit still, and handsome; very well: and those?

_Otr._ Those lead to the other side o'th' house, and't like ye.

_Phil._ Let me see those.

_Otr._ Ye may, the dores are open. What would this view mean? I am half suspitious.

_Phil._ This little Room?

_Otr._ 'Tis mean: a place for trash Sir, For rubbish of the house.

_Phil._ I would see this too: I will see all.

_Otr._ I beseech your Majesty, The savor of it, and the course appearance.

_Phil._ 'Tis not so bad, you would not offend your house with it, Come, let me see.

_Otr._ Faith Sir.

_Phil._ I'faith I will see.

_Otr._ My Groom has the key Sir, and 'tis ten to one--

_Phil._ But I will see it: force the lock (my Lords) There be smiths enough to mend it: I perceive You keep some rare things here, you would not show Sir.

Florimel _discovered_.

_Ter._ Here's a fair maid indeed.

_Phil._ By my faith is she; A hansome girl: come forward, do not fear wench. I marry, here's a treasure worth concealing: Call in the Miller.

_Otr._ Then I am discover'd. I confess all before the Miller comes Sir, 'Twas but intention, from all act I am clear yet.

_Enter_ Franio.

_Phil._ Is this your daughter?

_Fra._ Yes, and't please your Highness. This is the shape of her, for her substance Sir, Whether she be now honorable or dishonorable: Whether she be a white-rose, or a canker is the question: I thank my Lord, he made bold with my Philly, If she be for your pace, you had best preserve her Sir, She is tender mouth'd, let her be broken handsomly.

_Phil._ Maid, were you stoln?

_Flo._ I went not willingly, And't please your Grace, I was never bred so boldly.

_Phil._ How has he us'd ye?

_Flo._ Yet Sir, very nobly.

_Phil._ Be sure ye tell truth, and be sure (my Lord) You have not wrong'd her: if ye have, I tell ye You have lost me, and your self too: speak again (wench)

_Flo._ He has not wrong'd me, Sir; I am yet a maid: By all that's white and innocent, I am Sir, Only I suffer'd under strong temptations The heat of youth; but heaven deliver'd me. My Lord, I am no whore, for all I faigned it, And faign'd it cunningly, and made ye loath me: 'Twas time to out-do you: I had been rob'd else, I had been miserable, but I forgive ye.

_Phil._ What recompence for this?

_Otr._ A great one Sir, First a repentance, and a hearty one. Forgive me sweet.

_Flo._ I do my Lord.

_Otr._ I thank ye; The next take this, and these: all I have _Florimel_.

_Flo._ No good my Lord, these often corrupt Maidens: I dare not touch at these; they are lime for Virgins; But if you'll give me.

_Otr._ Any thing in my power. Or in my purchase.

_Flo._ Take heed (noble Sir) You'll make me a bold asker.

_Otr._ Ask me freely.

_Flo._ Ask you? I do ask you, and I deserve ye, I have kept ye from a crying sin would damn ye To Men and Time: I have preserv'd your credit, That would have died to all posterity: Curses of maids shall never now afflict ye, Nor Parents bitter tears make your name barren: If he deserves well that redeems his Countrey, And as a Patriot be remembred nobly, Nay, set the highest: may not I be worthy To be your friend, that have preserv'd your honor?

_Otr._ You are, and thus I take ye: thus I seal ye Mine own, and only mine.

_Phil. Count_, she deserves ye, And let it be my happiness to give ye, I have given a virtuous maid, now I dare say it, 'Tis more then blood; I'll pay her portion Sir, And't shall be worthy you.

_Fra._ I'll sell my Mill, I'll pay some too: I'll pay the Fidlers. And we'll have all i'th'Country at this wedding, Pray let me give her too, here my Lord take her, Take her with all my heart, and kiss her freely, Would I could give you all this hand has stol'n too, In portion with her, 'twould make her a little whiter. The wind blows fair now, get me a young Miller.

_Ver._ She must have new clothes.

_Tir._ Yes.

_Vir._ Yes marry must she. If't please ye (Madam) let me see the state of your body. I'll fit you instantly.

_Phil._ Art not thou gone yet?

_Ver._ And't please your Grace, a gown, a handsome gown now, An orient gown.

_Phil._ Nay, take thy pleasure of her.

_Ver._ Of cloth of Tissew I can fit ye (Madam) My Lords, stand out o'th' light, a curious body, The neatest body in _Spain_ this day: with embroidered flow'rs, A clinquant Petticoat of some rich stuffe, To catch the eye: I have a thousand fashions. O sleeve, O sleeve: I'll study all night (Madam) To magnifie your sleeve.

_Otr._ Do, superstitious Tailor, When ye have more time.

_Flo._ Make me no more then woman, And I am thine.

_Otr._ Sir, haply my Wardrobe with your help May fit her instantly: will you try her?

_Ver._ If I fit her not, your Wardrobe cannot. But if the fashion be not there, you marre her.

_Enter_ Antonio, _Constable, Officers_.

_Ant._ Is my offence so great, ere I be convict, To be torn with Rascals? If it be Law, Let 'em be wild horses rather than these.

_Phil._ What's that?

_Con._ This is a man suspected of murther, if it please your Grace.

_Phil._ It pleases me not (friend). But who suspects him?

_Const._ We that are your Highness extraordinary officers, We that have taken our oaths to maintain you in peace.

_Phil._ 'Twill be a great charge to you.

_Const._ 'Tis a great charge indeed; but then we call our neighbors to help us. This Gentleman and another were fallen out (yet that's more then I am able to say, for I heard no words between 'em, but what their weapons spoke, Clash, and Clatter) which we seeing, came with our Bills of government, and first knock'd down their weapons, and then the men.

_Phil._ And this you did to keep the peace?

_Const._ Yes, and't like your Grace, we knock'd 'em down to keep the peace: this we laid hold on, the other we set in the stocks. That I could do by mine own power, without your Majesty.

_Enter_ Aminta.

_Phil._ How so, Sir?

_Const._ I am a Shoo-maker by my Trade.

_Am._ Oh my Husband! Why stands my husband as a man endanger'd? Restore him me, as you are merciful, I'll answer for him.

_Ant._ What woman's this? what husband? hold thy bawling, I know thee for no wife.

_Am._ You married me last night.

_Ant._ Thou lyest: I neither was in Church nor house Last night, nor saw I thee: a thing that was my friend, I scorn to name now, was with _Ismenia_, Like a thief, and there he violated A sacred trust. This thou mayst know (_Aminta._)

_Am._ Are not you he?

_Ant._ No; nor a friend of his: Would I had kill'd him: I hope I have.

_Am._ That was my Husband (Royal Sir) that man, That excellent man.

_Enter_ Bellides.

_Ant._ That villain, that thief.

_Bel._ Have I caught you Sir? well overtaken. This is mine enemy: pardon, (my Soveraign.)

_Phil._ Good charity, to crave pardon for your enemy.

_Bel._ Mine own pardon (Sir) for my joyes rudeness: In what place better could I meet my foe, And both of us so well provided too? He with some black blood-thirsty crime upon him, That (ere the horse-leech burst) will suck him dry: I with a second accusation, Enough to break his neck, if need should be, And then to have even Justice it self to right us: How should I make my joyes a little civil, They might not keep this noyse?

_Ant._ Here is some hope. Should the ax be dull, the halter's preparing.

_Phil._ What's your accusation, Sir? We have heard the former.

_Enter_ Julio.

_Bel._ Mine (my Lord?) a strong one.

_Jul._ A false one, Sir. At least malicious: an evidence Of hatred and despight: He would accuse My poor kinsman of that he never dream'd of, Nor waking saw; the stealing of his daughter, She whom, I know, he would not look upon. Speak _Antonio_, Didst thou ever see her?

_Ant._ Yes Sir, I have seen her.

_Bel._ Ah ha, friend _Julio_.

_Jul._ He might, but how? with an unheedful eye, An accidental view, as men see multitudes That the next day dare not precisely say They saw that face, or that amongst 'em all. Didst thou so look on her?

_Bel._ Guilty, guilty: His looks hang themselves.

_Phil._ Your patience (Gen[t]leman.) I pray you tell me if I be in errour, I may speak often when I should but hear: This is some show you would present us with, And I do interrupt it: Pray you speak, (It seems no more) Is't any thing but a show?

_Bel._ My Lord, this Gentlewoman can show you all, So could my daughter too: if she were here; By this time they are both immodest enough: Shee's fled me, and I accuse this thief for't. Don _Martin_, his own friend's my testimony: A practis'd night-work.

_Phil._ That _Martin_'s the other In your custodie; he was forgotten: Fetch him hither.