Part 12

_Duke._ I pity him dearly: And let it be your charge, with his kind brother To see his moods observ'd; let every passion Be fed ev'n to a surfet, which in time May breed a loathing: let him have enough Of every object, that his sence is wrapt with; And being once glutted, then the taste of folly Will come into his rellish. [_Exit._

_1 Gent._ I shall see Your charge my Lord, most faith[fully] effected: And how does noble _Shamount_?

_Sham._ Never ill man Until I hear of baseness, then I sicken: I am the healthfull'st man i'th' kingdom else.

_Enter_ Lapet.

_1 Gent._ Be armed then for a fit, Here comes a fellow Will make you sick at heart, if baseness do't.

_Sha._ Let me be gone: what is he?

_1 Gent._ Let me tell you first, It can be but a qualm: pray stay it out Sir, Come, y'ave born more than this.

_Sha._ Born? never any thing That was injurious.

_2 Gent._ Ha, I am far from that.

_Sham._ He looks as like a man as I have seen one: What would you speak of him? speak well I prethee, Even for humanities cause.

_1 Gent._ You'd have it truth though?

_Sham._ What else Sir? I have no reason to wrong heav'n To favour nature; let her bear her own shame If she be faulty.

_1 Gent._ Monstrous faulty there Sir.

_Sham._ I'm ill at ease already.

_1 Gent._ Pray bear up Sir.

_Sham._ I prethee let me take him down with speed then; Like a wild object that I would not look upon.

_1 Gent._ Then thus: he's one that will endure as much As can be laid upon him.

_Sham._ That may be noble: I'm kept too long from his acquaintance.

_1 Gent._ Oh Sir, Take heed of rash repentance, y'are too forward To find out virtue where it never setl'd: Take the particulars first, of what he endures; _Videlicet_, Bastinadoes by the great.

_Sham._ How!

_1 Gent._ Thumps by the dozen, and your kicks by wholesale.

_Sham._ No more of him.

_1 Gent._ The twinges by the nostril he snuffs up, And holds it the best remedy for sneezing.

_Sham._ Away.

_1 Gent._ H'as been thrice switch'd from 7 a clock till 9. Yet with a Cart-Horse stomach, fell to breakfast; Forgetful of his smart.

_Sham._ Nay, the disgrace on't; There's no smart but that: base things are felt More by their shames than hurts, Sir. I know you not. But that you live an injury to nature: I'm heartily angry with you.

_Lap._ Pray give your blow or kick, and begone then: For I ne'er saw you before; and indeed, Have nothing to say to you, for I know you not.

_Sham._ Why wouldst thou take a blow?

_Lap._ I would not Sir, Unless 'twere offer'd me; and if from an enemy-- I'd be loth to deny it from a stranger.

_Sham._ What, a blow? Endure a blow? and shall he live that gives it?

_Lap._ Many a fair year----why not Sir?

_Sham._ Let me wonder! As full a man to see to, and as perfect-- I prethee live not long--

_Lap._ How?

_Sham._ Let me intreat it: Thou dost not know what wrong thou dost mankind, To walk so long here; not to dye betimes. Let me advise thee, while thou hast to live here, Ev'n for man's honour sake, take not a blow more.

_Lap._ You should advise them not to strike me then Sir, For I'll take none I assure you, 'less they are given.

_Sham._ How fain would I preserve mans form from shame And cannot get it done! however Sir, I charge thee live not long.

_Lap._ This is worse than beating.

_Sham._ Of what profession art thou, tell me Sir, Besides a Tailor? for I'll know the truth.

_Lap._ A Tailor? I'm as good a Gentleman-- Can shew my Arms and all.

_Sham._ How black and blew they are! Is that your manifestation? upon pain Of pounding thee to dust, assume not wrongfully The name of Gentleman, because I'm one, That must not let thee live.

_Lap._ I have done, I have done Sir. If there be any harm, beshrew the Herald, I'm sure I ha' not been so long a Gentleman, To make this anger: I have nothing no where, But what I dearly pay for. [_Exit._

_Sham._ Groom begone; I never was so heart-sick yet of man.

_Enter Lady, the Duke's Sister_, Lapet's _wife_.

_1 Gent._ Here comes a cordial, Sir, from th'other sex, Able to make a dying face look chearful.

_Sham._ The blessedness of Ladies--.

_Lady._ Y'are well met Sir.

_Sham._ The sight of you has put an evil from me, Whose breath was able to make virtue sicken.

_Lady._ I'm glad I came so fortunately. What was't Sir?

_Sham._ A thing that takes a blow, lives, and eats after it, In very good health; you ha' not seen the like, Madam, A Monster worth your sixpence, lovely worth.

[_1 Gent._] Speak low Sir; by all likely-hoods 'tis her Husband, Lady, That now bestow'd a visitation on me. Farewel Sir. [_Exit._

_Sham._ Husband? is't possible that he has a wife? Would any creature have him? 'tis some forc'd match, If he were not kick'd to th' Church o' th' wedding day, I'll never come at Court. Can be no otherwise: Perhaps he was rich, speak mistriss _Lapet_, was't not so?

_Wife._ Nay, that's without all question.

_Sh._ O ho, he would not want kickers enow then; If you are wise, I much suspect your honesty; For wisdom never fastens constantly, But upon merit: if you incline to fool, You are alike unfit for his society; Nay, if it were not boldness in the man That honors you, to advise you, troth his company Should not be frequent with you.

_Wife._ 'Tis good counsel Sir.

_Sham._ Oh, I am so careful where I reverence, So just to goodness, and her precious purity, I'm as equally jealous, and as fearful, That any undeserved stain might fall Upon her sanctified whiteness, as of the sin That comes by wilfulness.

_Wife._ Sir, I love your thoughts, And honor you for your counsel and your care.

_Sham._ We are your servants.

_Wife._ He's but a Gentleman o'th' chamber; he might have kist me: Faith, where shall one find less courtesie, than at Court? Say I have an undeserver to my Husband: That's ne'er the worse for him: well strange lip'd men, 'Tis but a kiss lost, there'll more come agen. [_Exit._

_Enter the passionate Lord, the Dukes kinsman, makes_ _a congie or two to nothing._

_1 Gent._ Look, who comes here Sir, his love-fit's upon him: I know it, by that sett smile, and those congies. How courteous he's to nothing! which indeed, Is the next kin to woman; only shadow The elder Sister of the twain, because 'tis seen too. See how it kisses the fore-finger still; Which is the last edition, and being come So near the thumb, every Cobler has got it.

_Sham._ What a ridiculous piece, humanity Here makes it self!

_1 Gent._ Nay good give leave a little, Sir, Y'are so precise a manhood--

_Sham._ It afflicts me When I behold unseemliness in an Image So near the Godhead, 'tis an injury To glorious Eternity.

_1 Gent._ Pray use patience, Sir.

_Pas._ I do confess it freely, precious Lady, And loves suit is so, the longer it hangs The worse it is; better cut off, sweet Madam; Oh, that same drawing in your neather Lip there, Fore-shews no goodness, Lady; make you question on't? Shame on me, but I love you.

_1 Gent._ Who is't Sir, You are at all this pains for? may I know her?

_Pas._ For thee thou fairest, yet the falsest woman, That ever broke man's heart-strings.

_1 Gent._ How? how's this Sir?

_Pas._ What the old trick of Ladies? man's apparel, Will't ne'er be left amongst you? steal from Court in't?

_1 Gent._ I see the Fit grows stronger.

_Pas._ Pray let's talk a little.

_Sham._ I can endure no more.

_1 Gent._ Good, let's alone a little: You are so exact a work: love light things somewhat, Sir.

_Sham._ Th'are all but shames.

_1 Gent._ What is't you'd say to me, Sir?

_Pas._ Can you be so forgetful to enquire it Lady?

_1 Gent._ Yes truely, Sir.

_Pas._ The more I admire your flintiness: What cause have I given you, illustrious Madam, To play this strange part with me?

_1 Gent._ Cause enough, Do but look back Sir, into your memory, Your love to other women, oh lewd man: 'Tas almost kill'd my heart, you see I'm chang'd with it, I ha' lost the fashion of my Sex with grief on't, When I have seen you courting of a Dowdie; Compar'd with me, and kissing your fore-finger To one o'th' Black-Guards Mistresses: would not this Crack a poor Ladies heart, that believ'd love, And waited for the comfort? but 'twas said, Sir, A Lady of my hair cannot want pittying: The Countrey's coming up, farewel to you Sir.

_Pas._ Whither intend you, Sir?

_1 Gent._ A long journey, Sir: The truth is, I'm with child, and goe to travel.

_Pas._ With child? I never got it.

_1 Gent._ I heard you were busie At the same time, Sir, and was loth to trouble you.

_Pas._ Why, are not you a whore then, excellent Madam?

_1 Gent._ Oh by no means, 'twas done Sir in the state Of my belief in you, and that quits me; It lies upon your falshood.

_Pas._ Does it so? You shall not carry her though Sir, she's my contract.

_Sham._ I prethee, thou four Elements ill brued, Torment none but thy self; away I say Thou beast of passion, as the drunkard is The beast of Wine; dishonor to thy making, Thou man in fragments.

_Pas._ Hear me, precious Madam.

_Sham._ Kneel for thy wits to Heaven.

_Pas._ Lady, I'll father it, Who e'er begot it: 'tis the course of greatness.

_Sham._ How virtue groans at this!

_Pas._ I'll raise the Court, but I'll stay your flight.

_Sham._ How wretched is that piece! [_Ex. Pas. Lord._

_1 Gent._ He's the Dukes kinsman, Sir.

_Sham._ That cannot take a passion away, Sir, Nor cut a Fit, but one poor hour shorter, He must endure as much as the poorest begger, That cannot change his money; there's th' equality In our impartial Essence: What's the news now?

_Enter a Servant._

_Ser._ Your worthy brother, Sir, 'has left his charge, And come to see you.

_Enter_ Shamount's _brother, a Soldier_.

_Sham._ Oh the noblest welcome That ever came from man, meet thy deservings: Methinks I've all joyes treasure in mine arms now.

_Sold._ You are so fortunate in prevention, brother, You always leave the answerer barren, Sir, You comprehend in few words so much worth--

_Sham._ 'Tis all too little for thee: come th'art welcome, So I include all: take especial knowledge pray, Of this dear Gentleman, my absolute friend, That loves a Soldier far above a Mistriss, Thou excellently faithful to 'em both. But love to manhood, owns the purer troth. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._

_Enter_ Shamont's _brother, a Soldier and a Lady,_ _the Dukes Sister_.

_Lady._ There should be in this Gallery--oh th'are here, Pray sit down, believe me Sir, I'm weary.

_Sold._ It well becomes a Lady to complain a little Of what she never feels: your walk was short, Madam, You can be but afraid of weariness; Which well employs the softness of your Sex, As for the thing it self, you never came to't.

_La._ You're wond'rously well read in Ladies, Sir.

_Sold._ Shall I think such a creature as you Madam, Was ever born to feel pain, but in Travel? There's your full portion, Besides a little tooth-ach in the breeding, Which a kind Husband too, takes from you, Madam.

_La._ But where do Ladies, Sir, find such kind Husbands? Perhaps you have heard The Rheumatick story of some loving Chandler now, Or some such melting fellow that you talk So prodigal of mens kindness: I confess Sir, Many of those wives are happy, their ambition Does reach no higher, than to Love and Ignorance, Which makes an excellent Husband, and a fond one: Now Sir, your great ones aim at height, and cunning, And so are oft deceiv'd, yet they must venture it; For 'tis a Ladies contumely, Sir, To have a Lord an Ignorant; then the worlds voice Will deem her for a wanton, e'r she taste on't: But to deceive a wise man, to whose circumspection, The world resigns it self, with all his envy; 'Tis less dishonor to us [then] to fall, Because his believ'd wisdom keeps out all.

_Sold._ Would I were the man, Lady, that should venture His wisdom to your goodness.

_La._ You might fail In the return, as many men have done, Sir: I dare not justifie what is to come of me, Because I know it not, though I hope virtuously; Marry what's past, or present, I durst put Into a good mans hand, which if he take Upon my word for good, it shall not cozen him.

_Sol._ No, nor hereafter?

_La._ It may hap so too, Sir: A womans goodness, when she is a wife, Lies much upon a mans desert, believe it Sir, If there be fault in her, I'll pawn my life on't, 'Tis first in him, if she were ever good, That makes one; knowing not a Husband yet, Or what he may be: I promise no more virtues, Than I may well perform, for that were cozenage.

_Sol._ Happy were he that had you with all fears, That's my opinion, Lady.

_Enter_ Shamount _and a servant list'ning_.

_Serv._ What say you now, Sir? Dare you give confidence to your own eyes?

_Sham._ Not yet I dare not.

_Serv._ No?

_Sham._ Scarce yet, or yet: Although I see 'tis he. Why can a thing, That's but my self divided, be so false?

_Serv._ Nay, do but mark how the chair plays hi[s] part too: How amoro[u]sly 'tis bent.

_Sh[a]m._ Hell take thy bad thoughts, For they are strange ones. Never take delight To make a torment worse. Look on 'em heaven, For that's a brother: send me a fair enemy, And take him; for a fouler Fiend there breathes not: I will not sin to think there's ill in her, But what's of his producing. Yet goodness, whose inclosure is but flesh, Holds out oft times but sorrily. But as black Sir, As ever kindred was: I hate mine own bloud, Because i[t] is so near thine. Live without honesty, And mayst thou dye with an unmoist'ned eye, And no tear follow thee. [_Ex._ Shamont, _Servant_.

_La._ Y'are wond'rous merry Sir; I would your Brother heard you.

_Sold._ Oh my Sister, I would not out o'th' way, let fall my words Lady, For the precisest humor.

_Enter passionate Lord._

_Pas._ Yea, so close.

_Sold._ Th'are merry, that's the worst you can report on 'em: Th'are neither dangerous, nor immodest.

_Pas._ So Sir, Shall I believe you, think you?

_Sold._ Who's this Lady?

_La._ Oh the Dukes Cosin, he came late from travel, Sir.

_Sold._ Respect belongs to him.

_Pas._ For as I said, Lady, Th'are merry, that's the worst you can report of 'em: Th'are neither dangerous, nor immodest.

_Sold._ How's this?

_Pas._ And there I think I left.

_Sold._ Abuses me.

_Pas._ Now to proceed, Lady; perhaps I swore I lov'd you, If you believe me not, y'are much the wiser.

_Sold._ He speaks still in my person, and derides me.

_Pas._ For I can cog with you.

_La._ You can all do so: We make no question of mens promptness that way.

_Pas._ And smile, and wave a chair with comely grace too, Play with our Tastle gently, and do fine things, That catch a Lady sooner than a virtue.

_Sold._ I never us'd to let man live so long That wrong'd me.

_Pas._ Talk of Battalions, wooe you in a skirmish; Divine my mind to you Lady; and being sharp set, Can court you at Half pike: or name your weapon, We cannot fail you Lady.

_Enter 1 Gentleman._

_Sold._ Now he dies: Were all succeeding hopes stor'd up within him.

_1 Gent._ Oh fie, i'th' Court, Sir?

_Sold._ I most dearly thank you; Sir.

_1 Gent._ 'Tis rage ill spent upon a passionate mad man.

_Sold._ That shall not priviledge him for ever, Sir: A mad man call you him? I have found too much reason Sound in his injury to me, to believe him so.

_1 Gent._ If ever truth from mans lips may be held In reputation with you, give this confidence; And this his Love-fit, which we observe still, By's flattering and his fineness: at some other time, He'll go as slovenly as heart can wish. The love and pity that his Highness shews to him, Makes every man the more respectful of him: Has never a passion, but is well provided for, As this of Love, he is full fed in all His swinge, as I may tearm it: have but patience, And ye shall witness somewhat.

_Sold._ Still he mocks me: Look you, in action, in behaviour, Sir; Hold still the chair, with a grand mischief to you, Or I'll let so much strength upon your heart, Sir--

_Pas._ I feel some power has restrain'd me Lady: If it be sent from Love, say, I obey it, And ever keep a voice to welcome it.

SONG.

_Thou Deity, swift winged Love,_ _Sometimes below, sometimes above,_ _Little in shape, but great in power,_ _Thou that mak'st a heart thy Tower,_ _And thy loop-holes Ladies eyes,_ _From whence thou strik'st the fond and wise._ _Did all the Shafts in thy fair Quiver_ _Stick fast in my ambitious Liver;_ _Yet thy power would I adore._ _And call upon thee to shoot more,_ _Shoot more, shoot more._

_Enter one like a_ Cupid, _offering to shoot at him_.

_Pas._ I prethee hold though, sweet Celestial boy; I'm not requited yet with love enough, For the first Arrow that I have within me; And if thou be an equal Archer _Cupid_, Shoot this Lady, and twenty more for me.

_La._ Me Sir?

_1 Gent._ 'Tis nothing but device, fear it not Lady; You may be as good a Maid after that shaft, Madam, As e'er your mother was at twelve and a half: 'Tis like the boy that draws it, 'tas no sting yet.

_Cup._ 'Tis like the miserable Maid that draws it--_Aside._ That sees no comfort yet, seeing him so passionate.

_Pas._ Strike me the Duchess of _Valois_ in love with me, With all the speed thou canst, and two of her Women.

_Cu._ You shall have more. [_Exit._

_Pas._ Tell 'em I tarry for 'em.

_1 Gent._ Who would be angry with that walking trouble now? That hurts none but it self?

_Sold._ I am better quieted.

_Pas._ I'll have all women-kind struck in time for me After thirteen once: I see this _Cupid_ will not let me want, And let him spend his forty shafts an hour, They shall be all found from the Dukes Exchequer; He's come already.

_Enter again the same_ Cupid, _two Brothers, six Women Maskers_, Cupid's _Bow bent all the way towards them, the first woman singing and playing, a Priest_.

SONG.

_Oh turn thy bow,_ _Thy power we feel and know,_ _Fair_ Cupid _turn away thy Bow:_ _They be those golden Arrows,_ _Bring Ladies all their sorrows,_ _And till there be more truth in men,_ _Never shoot at Maid agen._

_Pas._ What a felicity of whores are here! And all my Concubines struck bleeding new: A man can in his life time make but one woman, But he may make his fifty Queans a month.

_Cu._ Have you remembred a Priest, honest brothers?

_1 Bro._ Yes Sister, and this is the young Gentleman, Make you no question of our faithfulness.

_2 Bro._ His growing shame, Sister, provokes our care:

_Priest._ He must be taken in this fit of Love, Gentlemen.

_1 Bro._ What else Sir, he shall do't.

_2 Bro._ Enough.

_1 Bro._ Be chearful wench. [_A dance._ Cupid _leading_.

_Pas._ Now by the stroke of pleasure, a deep oath, Nimbly hopt Ladies all; what height they bear too! A story higher than your common statures; A little man must go up stairs to kiss 'em: What a great space there is Betwixt Loves Dining Chamber, and his Garret! I'll try the utmost height--the Garret stoops methinks; The rooms are made all bending, I see that, And not so high as a man takes 'em for.

_Cu._ Now if you'll follow me Sir, I've that power, To make them follow you.

_Pas._ Are they all shot?

_Cu._ All, all Sir, every mothers daughter of 'em.

_Pas._ Then there's no fear of following; if they be once shot They'll follow a man to th' devil--As for you, Sir--

[_Ex. with the Lady and the Masquers._

_Sold._ Me Sir?

_1 Gent._ Nay sweet Sir.

_Sold._ A noise, a threatening, did you not hear it Sir?

_1 Gent._ Without regard, Sir, so would I hear you.

_Sold._ This must come to something, never talk of that Sir. You never saw it otherwise.

_1 Gent._ Nay dear merit--

_Sold._ Me above all men?

_1 Gent._ Troth you wrong your anger.

_Sold._ I will be arm'd, my honourable Letcher.

_1 Gent._ Oh fie sweet Sir.

_Sold._ That devours womens honesties by lumps, And never chaw'st thy pleasure:

_2 Gent._ What do you mean, Sir?

_Sold._ What does he mean t'ingross all to himself? There's others love a whore as well as he Sir.

_1 Gent._ Oh, if that be part o' th' fury, we have a City Is very well provided for that case; Let him alone with her, Sir, we have Women Are very charitable to proper men, And to a Soldier that has all his limbs; Marry the sick and lame gets not a penny: Right womens charity, and the Husbands follow't too: Here comes his Highness Sir.

_Enter Duke and Lords._

_Sold._ I'll walk to cool my self. [_Exit._

_Duke._ Who's that?

_1 Gent._ The brother of _Shamont_.

_Duke._ He's Brother then To all the Courts love, they that love discreetly, And place their friendliness upon desert: As for the rest, that with a double face Look upon merit much like fortunes visage, That looks two ways, both to life's calms and storms, I'll so provide for him, chiefly for him, He shall not wish their loves, nor dread their envies. And here comes my _Shamont_.

_Enter_ Shamont.

_Sham._ That Ladies virtues are my only joyes, And he to offer to lay siege to them?

_Duke. Shamont._

_Sham._ Her goodness is my pride: in all discourses, As often as I hear rash tongu'd gallants, Speak rudely of a woman, presently I give in but her name, and th'are all silent: Oh who would loose this benefit?

_Duke._ Come hither Sir.

_Sham._ 'Tis like the Gift of Healing, but Diviner; For that but cures diseases in the body, This works a cure on Fame, on Reputation: The noblest piece of Surgery upon earth.

_Duke. Shamont_; he minds me not.

_Sham._ A Brother do't?

_Duke. Shamont_ I say. [_Gives him a touch with his switch._

_Sham._ Ha? If he be mortal, by this hand he perishes; [_Draws._ Unless it be a stroke from heaven, he dies for't.

_Duke._ Why, how now Sir? 'twas I.

_Sham._ The more's my misery.

_Duke._ Why, what's the matter prethee?

_Sham._ Can you ask it, Sir? No man else should; stood forty lives before him, By this I would have op'd my way to him; It could not be you Sir, excuse him not, What e'er he be, as y'are dear to honor, That I may find my peace agen.

_Duke._ Forbear I say, Upon my love to truth, 'twas none but I.

_Sham._ Still miserable?

_Duke._ Come, come, what ails you Sir?

_Sham._ Never sate shame cooling so long upon me, Without a satisfaction in revenge, And heaven has made it here a sin to wish it.

_Duke._ Hark you Sir!

_Sham._ Oh y'ave undone me.

_Duke._ How?

_Sham._ Cruelly undone me; I have lost my peace and reputation by you: Sir, pardon me, I can never love you more. [_Exit._

_Duke._ What language call you this Sirs?

_1 Gent._ Truth my Lord, I've seldom heard a stranger--