Part 12

_King._ What shall be done now?

_Gov._ They must dye both, And suddenly, they will corrupt all else; This woman makes me weary of my mischief, She shakes me, and she staggers me, go in Sir, I'll see the execution.

_Kin._ Not so suddain: If they go, all my Friends and Sisters perish.

_Gov._ Wou'd I were safe at home agen.

_Enter Messenger._

_Mes._ Arm, arm, Sir, Seek for defence, the Castle plays and thunders, The Town Rocks, and the houses fly i' th' air, The people dye for fear--Captain _Ruy Dias_, Has made an oath he will not leave a stone here; No, not the memory, here has stood a City, Unless _Armusia_ be deliver'd fairly.

_King._ I have my fears: what can our gods do now for us?

_Gov._ Be patient, but keep him still: he is a cure, Sir, Against both Rage and Cannon: goe and fortifie, Call in the Princess, make the Palace sure, And let 'em know you are a King: look nobly; And take you[r] courage to ye; keep close the prisoner, And under command, we are betraid else.

_Ar._ How joyfully I goe!

_Quisar._ Take my heart with thee.

_Gov._ I hold a Wolf by the ear now: Fortune free me. [_Exeunt._

_Enter four Towns-men._

_1._ Heaven bless us, What a thund'ring's here! what fire-spitting! We cannot drink, but our Cans are mauld amongst us.

_2._ I wou'd they would mall our scores too: Shame o' their Guns, I thought they had been bird-pots, Or great Candle-cases, how devilishly they bounce, And how the Bullets borrow a piece of a house here, There another, and mend those up agen With another Parish; here flies a poudring-tub, The meat ready rosted, and there a barrel pissing vinegar, And they two over-taking the top of a high Steeple, Newly slic'd off for a Sallet.

_3._ A vengeance fire 'em.

_2._ Nay, they fire fast enough; You need not help 'em.

_4._ Are these the _Portugal_ Bulls-- How loud they bellow!

_2._ Their horns are plaguy strong, they push down Palaces They toss our little habitations like whelps, Like grindle-tails, with their heels upward; All the windows i'th Town dance a new Trenchmore, 'Tis like to prove a blessed age for Glasiers, I met a hand, and a Letter in't, in great haste, And by and by, a single leg running after it, As if the arm had forgot part of his errand, Heads flie like Foot-balls every where.

_1._ What shall we do?

_2._ I care not, my shop's cancell'd, And all the Pots, and earthen Pans in't vanish't: There was a single Bullet, and they together by the ears; You would have thought _Tom Tumbler_ had been there, And all his troop of devils.

_3._ Let's to the King, And get this Gentleman deliver'd handsomly: By this hand, there's no walking above ground else.

_2._ By this leg--let me swear nimbly by it, For I know not how long I shall owe it, If I were out o'th' Town once, if I came in agen to Fetch my breakfast, I will give 'em leave to cramm me With a _Portugal_ Pudding: Come; let's doe any thing To appease this thunder. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Pyniero _and_ Panura.

_Py._ Art sure it was that blind Priest?

_Pan._ Yes most certain, He has provok'd all this; the King is merciful, And wond'rous loving; but he fires him on still, And when he cools, enrages him, I know it: Threatens new vengeance, and the gods fierce justice When he but looks with fair eyes on _Armusia_, Will lend him no time to relent; my royal Mistriss, She has entertain'd a _Christian_ hope.

_Py._ Speak truly.

_Pan._ Nay, 'tis most true, but Lord! how he lies at her, And threatens her, and flatters her, and damns her, And I fear, if not speedily prevented, If she continue stout, both shall be executed,

_Py._ I'll kiss thee for this news, nay more _Panura_, If thou wilt give me leave I'll get thee with _Christian_, The best way to convert thee.

_Pan._ Make me believe so?

_Py._ I will y'faith. But which way cam'st thou hither? The Pallace is close guarded, and barricado'd.

_Pan._ I came through a private vault, which few there know of; It rises in a Temple not far hence, Close by the Castle here.

_Py._ How--To what end?

_Pan._ A good one: To give ye knowledge of my new-born Mistriss; And in what doubt _Armusia_ stands, Think any present means, or hope to stop 'em From their fell ends: the Princes are come in too, And they are harden'd also.

_Py._ The damn'd Priest--

_Pan._ Sure he's a cruel man, methinks Religion Should teach more temperate Lessons.

_Py._ He the fire-brand? He dare to touch at such fair lives as theirs are? Well Prophet, I shall prophesie, I shall catch ye, When all your Prophecies will not redeem ye? Wilt thou do one thing bravely?

_Pa._ Any good I am able.

_Py._ And by thine own white hand, I'll swear thou art virtuous, And a brave wench, durst thou but guide me presently, Through the same vault thou cam'st, into the Pallace And those I shall appoint, such as I think fit.

_Pa._ Yes I will do it, and suddainly, and truly.

_Py._ I wou'd fain behold this Prophet.

_Pa._ Now I have ye: And shall bring ye where ye shall behold him, Alone too, and unfurnish'd of defences: That shall be my care; but you must not betray me.

_Py._ Dost thou think we are so base, such slaves, rogues?

_Pa._ I do not: And you shall see how fairly I'll work for ye.

_Py._ I must needs steal that Priest, Steal him, and hang him.

_Pa._ Do any thing to remove his mischief, strangle him--

_Py._ Come prethee love.

_Pa._ You'll offer me no foul play? The Vault is dark.

_Py._ 'Twas well remember'd.

_Pa._ And ye may-- But I hold ye honest.

_Py._ Honest enough I warrant thee.

_Pa._ I am but a poor weak wench; and what with the place, And your perswasions Sir--but I hope you will not; You know we are often cozen'd.

_Py._ If thou dost fear me, Why dost thou put me in mind?

_Pa._ To let you know Sir, Though it be in your power, and things fitting to it, Yet a true Gent--

_Py._ I know what he'll do: Come and remember me, and I'll answer thee, I'll answer thee to the full; we'll call at th' Castle, And then my good guide, do thy Will; sha't find me A very tractable man!

_Pa._ I hope I shall Sir. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Bakam, Syana, _and Soldiers_.

_Bak._ Let my men guard the Gates.

_Syan._ And mine the Temple, For fear the honor of our gods should suffer, And on your lives be watchful.

_Ba._ And be valiant; And let's see, if these _Portugals_ dare enter; What their high hearts dare do: Let's see how readily, The great _Ruy Dias_ will redeem his Countrey-men; He speaks proud words, and threatens.

_Sy._ He is approv'd, Sir, And will put fair for what he promises; I could wish friendlier terms, Yet for our liberties and for our gods, We are bound in our best service Even in the hazard of our lives.

_Enter the King above._

_King._ Come up Princes, And give your counsels, and your helps: the Fort still Plays fearfully upon us, beats our buildings, And turns our people wild with fears.

_Ba._ Send for the prisoner, And give us leave to argue. [_Exit_ Ba. _and_ Sy. _then_,

_Enter_ Ruy Dias, Emanuel, Christoph. Pedro, _with Sold_.

_Ru._ Come on nobly, And let the Fort play still, we are Strong enough to look upon 'em, And return at pleasure; it may Be on our view they will return him.

_Chr._ We will return 'em such thanks else, Shall make 'em scratch where it itches not.

_Em._ How the people stare, And some cry, some pray, and some curse heartily: But it is the King--

_Enter_ Syana, Bakam, Quisara, Armusia, _with Soldiers above_.

_Ruy._ I cannot blame their wisdoms. They are all above, _Armusia_ chain'd and bound too? Oh, these are tha[n]kful Squires.

_Ba._ Hear us _Ruy Di[a]s_, Be wise and hear us, and give speedy answer, Command thy Cannon presently to cease, No more to trouble the afflicted people, Or suddainly _Armusia's_ head goes off; As suddainly as said.

_Em._ Stay Sir, be moderate.

_Arm._ Do nothing that's dishonourable _Ruy Dyas_ Let not the fear of me, master thy valour; Pursue 'em still, they are base malicious people.

_King._ Friend, be not desperate.

_Ar._ I scorn your courtesies; Strike when you dare, a fair arm guide the Gunner And may he let flie still with fortune: friend, Do me the honor of a Soldiers funerals, The last fair _Christian_ right, see me i'th' ground, And let the Palace burn first, then the Temples, And on their scorn'd gods, erect my monument: Touch not the Princess, as you are a Soldier.

_Quisar._ Which way you goe, Sir, I must follow necessary. One life, and one death.

_King._ Will you take a truce yet?

_Enter_ Pyniero, Soza, _and Soldiers_, _with the Governor_.

_Py._ No, no, go on: Look here, your god, your prophet.

_King._ How came he taken?

_Py._ I conjur'd for him, King. I am a sure Curr at an old blind Prophet. I'll haunt ye such a false knave admirably, A terrier I; I eartht him, and then snapt him.

_Soz._ Saving the reverence of your grace, we stole him, E'en out of the next chamber to ye.

_Py._ Come, come, begin King, Begin this bloudy matter when you dare; And yet I scorn my sword should touch the rascal, I'll tear him thus before ye. Ha? What art thou? {_Pulls his Beard and hair off._

_King._ How's this! Art thou a Prophet?

_Ru._ Come down Princes.

_King._ We are abus'd-- Oh my most dear _Armusia_-- Off with his chains. And now my noble Sister, Rejoyce with me, I know ye are pleas'd as I am.

_Py._ This is a precious Prophet. Why Don Governor, What make you here, how long have you taken Orders?

_Ruy._ Why what a wretch Art thou to work this mischief? To assume this holy shape to ruine honor, Honor and chastity?

_Enter King, and all from above._

_Gov._ I had paid you all, But fortune plaid the slut. Come, Give me my doom.

_King._ I cannot speak for wonder.

_Gov._ Nay, 'tis I Sir, And here I stay your sentence.

_King._ Take her friend, You have half perswaded me to be a _Christian_, And with her all the joyes, and all the blessings. Why what dream have we dwelt in?

_Ru._ All peace to ye, And all the happiness of heart dwell with ye, Children as sweet and noble as their Parents.

_Py._ And Kings at least.

_Ar._ Good Sir, forget my rashness. And noble Princess[e], for I was once angry, And out of that, might utter some distemper, Think not 'tis my nature.

_Sya._ Your joy is ours, Sir. And nothing we find in ye, but most noble.

_King._ To prison with this dog, there let him houl, And if he can repent, sigh out his villanies: His Island we shall seize into our hands, His Father and himself have both usurp'd it, And kept it by oppression; the Town and Castle, In which I lay my self most miserable, Till my most honourable friend redeem'd me, Signior _Pyniero_, I bestow on you, The rest of next command upon these Gentlemen, Upon ye, all my love.

_Arm._ Oh brave _Ruy Dias_, You have started now beyond me. I must thank ye, And thank ye for my life, my wife and honor.

_Ruy._ I am glad I had her for you, Sir.

_King._ Come Princes, Come Friends and Lovers all, come noble Gentlemen, No more Guns now, nor hates, but joyes and triumphs, An universal gladness fly about us: And know however subtle men dare cast, And promise wrack, the gods give peace at last. [_Exeunt._

THE NOBLE GENTLEMAN. A Comedy.

The Persons represented in the Play.

Monsieur Marine, _the Noble Gent. but none of the wisest_. Jaques, _an old servant to_ Marine's _family_. Clerimont, _a Gull_, _Cosin to Monsieur_ Marine. A Gentleman, _Servant to_ Marine's _wife_. Lo[n]gueville, } _two Courtiers that plot Beaufort, } to abuse_ Marine. Shattillion, _a Lord_, _mad for Love_. Doctor. Page. Gentlemen. Servants. Duke.

WOMEN.

Marine's _Wife_, _a witty wanton_. Clerimont's _Wife_, _a simple countrey Gentlewoman_. Shattillion's _Mistriss_, _a virtuous Virgin_. Maria, _Servant to_ Marine's _wife_.

The Scene France.

PROLOGUE.

_Wit is become an Antick, and puts on As many shapes of variation, To court the times applause, as the times dare, Change several fashions, nothing is thought rare Which is not new, and follow'd, yet we know That what was worn some twenty years agoe, Comes into grace again, and we pursue That custom, by presenting to your view A Play in fashion then, not doubting now But 'twill appear the same, if you allow Worth to their noble memory, whose name, Beyond all power of death, live in their fame._

_Actus Primus. Scaena Prima._

_Enter Gentleman a[n]d_ Jaques.

_Gent._ What happiness waits on the life at Court, What dear content, greatness, delight and ease! What ever-springing hopes, what tides of honor! That raise their fortunes to the height of wishes! What can be more in man, what more in nature, Than to be great and fear'd? A Courtier, A noble Courtier, 'Tis a name that draws Wonder and duty from all eyes and knees.

_Jaq._ And so your Worships Land within the Walls, Where you shall have it all inclos'd, and sure.

_Gent._ Peace knave; dull creature, bred of sweat and smoke, These mysteries are far above thy faith: But thou shalt see--

_Jaq._ And then I shall believe; Your fair revenues, turn'd into fair suits; I shall believe your Tenant's bruis'd and rent Under the weight of Coaches, all your state Drawn through the streets in triumph, suits for places Plied with a Mine of Gold, and being got Fed with a great stream. I shall believe all this.

_Gent._ You shall believe, and know me glorious. Cosin, good day and health.

_Enter Cosin._

_Cosin._ The same to you, Sir, And more, without my wishes, could you know What calm content dwels in a private house: Yet look into your self, retire: this place Of promises, and protestations, fits Minds only bent [t]o ruin, you should know this, You have their language perfect, you have tutors I do not doubt, sufficient: but beware.

_Gent._ You are merry Cosin:

_Cosin._ Yet your patience, You shall learn that too, but not like it self, Where it is held a virtue; tell me Sir, Have you cast up your State, rated your Land, And find it able to endure the change Of time and fashion? is it always harvest? Always vintage? have you Ships at Sea, To bring you Gold and Stone from rich _Peru_, Monthly returning Treasure? doth the King Open his large Exchequer to your hands And bid ye be a great man? can your wife Coin off her beauty? or the week allow Suits to each day? and know no ebb in honor? If these be possible, and can hold out, Then be a Courtier still, and still be wasting.

_Gent._ Cosin, pray give me leave:

_Cos._ I have done.

_Gent._ I could requite your gall, and in a strain As bitter, and as full of Rubarb, preach Against your Countrey life, but 'tis below me And only subject to my pitty, know The eminent Court, to them that can be wise, And fasten on her blessings, is a Sun That draws men up from course and earthly Being, I mean these men of merit that have power And reason to make good her benefits, Learns them a manly boldness, gives their tongues Sweetness of Language, makes them apt to please; Files of all rudeness, and uncivil haviour, Shews them as neat in carriage, as in cloaths; Cosin, have you ever seen the Court?

_Cos._ No Sir, Nor am I yet in travel with that longing.

_Gent._ Oh the state and greatness of that place Where men are found Only to give the first creation glory! Those are the models of the antient world Left like the _Roman_ Statues to stir up Our following hopes, the place it self puts on The brow of Majesty, and flings her lustre Like the air newly light'ned; Form, and Order, Are only there themselves, unforc'd, and sound, As they were first created to this place.

_Cos._ You nobly came, but will goe from thence base.

_Gent._ 'Twas very pretty, and a good conceit; You have a wit good Cosin, I do joy in't, Keep it for Court: but to my self again, When I have view'd these pieces, turn'd these eyes, And with some taste of superstition, Look'd on the wealth of Nature, the fair dames, Beauties, that light the Court, and make it shew Like a fair heaven, in a frosty night: And 'mongst these mine, not poorest, 'tis for tongues Of blessed Poets, such as _Orpheus_ was, To give their worth and praises; Oh dear Cosin: You have a wife, and fair, bring her hither, Let her not live to be the Mistriss of a Farmers heir And be confin'd ever to a searge, Far courser than my horse-cloth. Let her have Velvets, Tiffinies, Jewels, Pearls, A Coach, an Usher, and her two Lacquies, And I will send my wife to give her rules, And read the rudiments of Court to her.

_Cos._ Sir, I had rather send her to _Virginia_ To help to propagate the _English_ Nation.

_Enter Servant._

_Gent._ Sirrah, how slept your Mistriss, and what visitants Are to pay service?

_Serv._ As I came out, Two Counts were newly ent'red.

_Gent._ This is greatness, But few such servants wait a Countrey beauty.

_Cos._ They are the more to thank their modesty, God keep my Wife, and all my Issue Female From such uprisings.

_Enter a Doctor._

_Gent._ What? my learned Doctor? You will be welcome, give her health and youth And I will give you gold. [_Exit Doctor._ Cosin, how savors this? is it not sweet And very great, tasts it not of Nobleness?

_Cos._ Faith Sir, my pallat is too dull and lazie I cannot taste it, 'tis not for my relish, But be so still. Since your own misery must first reclaim ye, To which I leave you, Sir, If you will, yet be happy, leave the humor And base subjection to your Wife, be wise, And let her know with speed, you are her Husband, I shall be glad to hear it. My horse is sent for. [_Exit._

_Gent._ Even such another countrey thing as this Was I, such a piece of dirt, so heavy, So provident to heap up ignorance, And be an ass: such musty cloaths wore I, So old and thred-bare, I do yet remember Divers young Gallants lighting at my Gate, To see my honoured Wife, have offered pence, And bid me walk their horses, such a slave Was I in shew then: but my eyes are open'd.

_Enter Gent. Wife._

Many sweet morrows to my worthy Wife.

_Wife._ 'Tis well, and aptly given, as much for you, But to my present business, which is money--

_Gent._ Lady, I have none left.

_Wife._ I hope you dare not say so, nor imagine so base and low, A thought: I have none left? Are these words fitting for a man of worth, And one of your full credit? Do you know The place you live in? me? and what I labour For, you? and your advancement?

_Gent._ Yes my dearest.

_Wife._ And do you pop me off with this slight answer, In troth I have none left? in troth you must have; Nay stare not, 'tis most true, send speedily To all that love you, let your people flye Like thunder, through the City, And not return under five thousand Crowns. Try all, take all, let not a [wealthy] Merchant be untempted Or any one that hath the name of Money, Take up at any Use, give Band, or Land, Or mighty Statutes, able by their strength, To tye up _Sampson_, were he now alive, There must be money gotten; for be perswaded, If we fall now, or be but seen to shrink, Under our fair beginnings, 'tis our ruin, And then good night to all, (but our disgrace) Farewel the hope of coming happiness, And all the aims we levied at so long. Are ye not mov'd at this? no sense of want, Towards your self yet breeding? be old, And common; jaded to the eyes Of Grooms, and Pages, Chamber-maids, and Guarders, And when you have done, put your poor house in order And hang your self, for such must be the end Of him that willingly forsakes his hopes And hath a joy to tumble to his ruin. All that I say is certain, if ye fail Do not [impute] me with it, I am clear.

_Gent._ Now heaven forbid I should do wrong to you My dearest Wife, and Madam; yet give leave To your poor creature to unfold himself. You know my debts are many more than means, My bands not taken in, my friends at home Drawn dry with these expences, my poor Tenants More full of want than we, then what new course Can I beget, to raise those crowns by? speak, And I shall execute.

_Wife._ Pray tell me true, Have you not Land in the Countrey?

_Gent._ Pardon me, I had forgot it.

_Wife._ Sir, you must remember it, There is no remedy, this Land must be, In _Paris_ e'r to morrow night.

_Gent._ It shall, let me consider, some 300 acres Will serve the turn.

_Wife._ 'Twill furnish at all points, Now you speak like your self, and know like him, That means to be a man, suspect no less For the return will give ye five for one, You shall be great to morrow, I have said it. Farewel, and see this business be a-foot, With expedition. [_Exit Wife._

_Gent._ Health, all joy, and honor Wait on my lovely Wife. What? _Jaques_, _Jaques_.

_Enter_ Jaques.

_Jaq._ Sir, did you call?

_Gent._ I did so, hie thee _Jaques_. Down to the Bank, and there to some good Merchant (Conceive me well, good _Jaques_, and be private) Offer 300 acres of my Land: Say it is choice and fertile, ask upon it Five thousand Crowns, this is the business I must employ thee in, be wise and speedy.

_Jaq._ Sir, do not do this.

_Gent._ Knave, I must have money.

_Jaq._ If you have money thus, your knave must tell ye You will not have a foot of Land left, be more wary, And more friend to your self, this honest Land Your Worship has discarded, has been true, And done you loyal service.

_Gent._ Gentle _Jaques_, You have a merry wit, employ it well About the business you have now in hand. When ye come back, enquire me in the Presence, If not in the Tennis-Court, or at my house. [_Exit._

_Jaq._ If this vain hold, I know where to enquire ye. Five thousand Crowns! this, with good husbandry, May hold a month out, then 5000 more, And more Land a bleeding for't, as many more, And more Land laid aside. God and _St. Dennis_ Keep honest minded young men batchelors. 'Tis strange, my Master should be yet so young A puppy, that he cannot see his fall And got so near the Sun. I'll to his Cosin. And once more tell him on't, if he fail, Then to my Mortgage, next unto my sale. [_Exit._

_Enter_ Longovile, Bewford, _and the Servant_.

_Serv._ Gentlemen, hold on discourse a while, I shall return with knowledge how and where We shall have best access unto my Mistriss To tender your devotions. [_Exit._

_Long._ Be it so: Now to our first discourse.

_Bew._ I prethee peace; Thou canst not be so bad, or make me know Such things are living, do not give thy self So common and so idle, so open vile, So great a wronger of thy worth, so low, I cannot, nor I must not credit thee.

_Lon._ Now by this light I am a whoremaster, An open, and an excellent whormaster, And take a special glory that I am so: I thank my Stars I am a whoremaster, And such a one as dare be known and seen, And pointed at to be a noble wencher.

_Bew._ Do not let all ears hear this, hark [y]e Sir, I am my self a whoremaster, I am Believe it Sir (in private be it spoken) I love a whore directly, most men are wenchers, And have profest the Science, few men That look upon ye now, but whoremasters, Or have a full desire to be so.

_Lon._ This is noble.