Part 2

_Thier._ I cannot but Believe you Madam, thou art one degree Grown nearer to my heart, and I am proud To have in thee so glorious a plant Transported hither; In thy conduct, we Go on assur'd of conquest; our remove Shall be with the next Sun.

_Enter Theod[o]ret, Memberge, Martell, Devitry._

_Lecure._ Amazement leave me, 'tis he.

_Bawd._ We are again undone.

_Prot._ Our guilt hath no assurance nor defence.

_Bawd._ If now your ever ready wit fail to protect us, We shall be all discover'd.

_Brun._ Be not so In your amazement and your foolish fears, I am prepared for't.

_Theod._ How? Not one poor welcome, In answer of so long a journey made Only to see your brother.

_Thier._ I have stood Silent thus long, and am yet unresolv'd Whether to entertaine thee on my sword, As fits a parricide of a mothers honor; Or whether being a Prince, I yet stand bound (Though thou art here condemn'd) to give thee hearing Before I execute. What foolish hope, (Nay pray you forbear) or desperate madness rather, (Unless thou com'st assur'd, I stand in debt As far to all impiety as thy self) Has made thee bring thy neck unto the axe? Since looking only here, it cannot but Draw fresh blood from thy sear'd up conscience, To make thee sensible of that horror, which They ever bear about them, that like _Nero_, Like said I? Thou art worse: since thou darest strive In her defame to murther thine alive.

_Theod._ That she that long since had the boldness to Be a bad woman, (though I wish some other Should so report her) could not want the cunning, (Since they go hand in hand) to lay fair colo[u]rs On her black crimes, I was resolv'd before, Nor make I doubt, but that she hath impoyson'd Your good opinion of me, and so far Incens'd your rage against me, that too late I come to plead my innocence.

_Brun._ To excuse thy impious scandalls rather.

_Prot._ Rather forc'd with fear to be compel'd to come.

_Thierry._ Forbear.

_Theod._ This moves not me, and yet had I not been Transported on my own integrity, I neither am so odious to my subjects, Nor yet so barren of defence, but that By force I could have justified my guilt, Had I been faulty, but since innocence Is to it self an hundred thousand gards, And that there is no Son, but though he owe That name to an ill mother, but stands bound Rather to take away with his own danger From the number of her faults, than for his own Security, to add unto them. This, This hath made me to prevent th'expence Of bloud on both sides, the injuries, the rapes, (Pages, that ever wait upon the war:) The account of all which, since you are the cause, Believe it, would have been required from you; Rather I say to offer up my daughter, Who living onely could revenge my death, With my heart blood a sacrifice to your anger Than that you should draw on your head more curses Than yet you have deserved.

_Thier._ I do begin To feel an alteration in my nature, And in his full sail'd confidence, a showre Of gentle rain, that falling on the fire Of my hot rage hath quenched it, ha! I would Once more speak roughly to him, and I will, Yet there is something whispers to me, that I have said too much. How is my heart devided Between the duty of a Son, and love Due to a brother! yet I am swayed here, And must aske of you, how 'tis possible You can effect me that have learned to hate, Where you should pay all love?

_Theod._ Which joyn'd with duty, Upon my knees I should be proud to tender, Had she not us'd her self so many swords To cut those bonds that tide me to it.

_Thier._ Fie no more of that.

_Theod._ Ala[s] it is a theme, I take no pleasure to discourse of; Would It could assoon be buried to the world, As it should die to me: nay more, I wish (Next to my part of heaven) that she would spend The last part of her life so here, that all Indifferent Judges might condemn me, for A most malicious slanderer, nay texde it Upon my forehead, if you hate me mother, Put me to such a shame, pray you do, believe it There is no glory that may fall upon me, Can equall the delight I should receive In that disgrace; provided the repeal Of your long banish'd virtues, and good name, Usher'd me to it.

_Thier._ See, she shews her self An e[a]sie mother, which her tears confirme.

_Theod._ 'Tis a good sign, the comfortablest rain I ever saw.

_Thier._ Embrace: Why this is well, May never more but love in you, and duty On your part rise between you.

_Bawd._ Do you hear Lord Generall, Does not your new stamp'd honor on the suddain Begin to grow sick?

_Prota._ Yes I find it fit, That putting off my armor I should think of Some honest hospitall to retire to.

_Bawd._ Sure although I am a bawd, yet being a Lord, They cannot whip me for't, what's your opinion?

_Lecure._ The beadle will resolve you, for I cannot, There is something that more near concerns my self, That calls upon me.

_Mart._ Note but yonder scarabs, That liv'd upon the dung of her base pleasures, How from the fear that she may yet prove honest Hang down their wicked heads.

_Vitry._ What is that to me? Though they and all the pol[e]cats of the Court, Were trust together, I perceive not how It can advantage me a cardekue, To help to keep me honest. [_A horn._

_Enter a Post._

_Thier._ How, from whence?

_Post._ These letters will resolve your grace.

_Thier._ What speak they? [_Reads._ How all things meet to make me this day happy? See mother, brother, to your reconcilement Another blessing almost equall to it, Is coming towards me; My contracted wife _Ordella_, daughter of wise _Datarick_, The King of _Aragon_ is on our confines; Then to arrive at such a time, when you Are happily here to honor with your presence Our long defer'd, but much wish'd nuptiall, Falls out above expression; Heaven be pleas'd That I may use these blessings powr'd on me With moderation.

_Brun._ Hell and furies ayd me, That I may have power to avert the plagues That press upon me.

_Thier._ Two dayes journy sayest thou, We will set forth to meet her: in the mean time See all things be prepar'd to entertain her; Nay let me have your companies, there's a Forrest In the midway shall yeild us hunting sport, To ease our travel, I'll not have a brow But shall wear mirth upon it, therefore clear them. We'll wash away all sorrow in glad feasts; And the war we mean to men, we'll make on beasts.

[_Exeunt omnes, præter Brun. Bawdber, Portaldy, Lecure._

_Brun._ Oh that I had the Magick to transforme you Into the shape of such, that your own hounds Might tear you peece-meale; Are you so stupid? No word of comfort? have I fed you mothers From my excess of moysture, with such cost And can you yeild no other retribution, But to devour your maker, pandar, sponge, Impoysoner, all grown barren?

_Prota._ You your self That are our mover, and for whom alone We live, have fail'd your self in giving way To the reconcilement of your [sonnes].

_Lecure._ Which if You had prevented, or would teach us how They might again be sever'd, we could easily Remove all other hind'rances that stop The passage of your pleasures.

_Baud._ And for me, If I fail in my office to provide you Fresh delicat[e]s, hang me.

_Brun._ Oh you are dull, and find not The cause of my vexation; Their reconcilement Is a mock castle built upon the sand By children, which when I am pleas'd to o'rethrow, I can with ease spurn down.

_Lecure._ If so, from whence Grows your affliction?

_Brun._ My grief comes along With the new Queen, in whose grace all my power Must suffer shipwrack: for me now, That hitherto have kept the first, to know A second place, or yeeld the least precedence To any other ['s] death; To have my sleeps Less enquir'd after, or my rising up Saluted with less reverence, or my gates Empty of suitors, or the Kings great favours To pass through any hand but mine, or he Himself to be directed by another, Would be to me: doe you understand me, yet No meanes to prevent this.

_Prota._ Fame gives her out To be a woman of [a] chastity Not to be wrought upon; and therefore Madam For me, though I have pleas'd you, to attempt her Were to no purpose.

_Brun._ Tush, some other way.

_Baud._ Faith I know none else, all my bringing up Aim'd at no other learning.

_Lecure._ Give me leave, If my art fail me not, I have thought on A speeding project.

_Brun._ What [ist]? but effect it, And thou shalt be my _Æsculapius_, Thy image shall be set up in pure gold, To which I'll fall down and worship it.

_Lecure._ The Lady is fair.

_Brun._ Exceeding fair.

_Lecure._ And young.

_Brun._ Some fifteen at the most.

_Lecure._ And loves the King with equall ardor.

_Brun._ More, she dotes on him.

_Lecure._ Well then, [what] think you if I make a drink Which given unto him on the bridall night Shall for five days so rob his faculties, Of all ability to pay that duty, Which new made wives expect, that she shall swear She is not match'd to a man.

_Prota._ 'Twere rare.

_Lecure._ And then, If she have any part of woman in her, She'll or fly out, or at least give occasion Of such a breach which nere can be made up, Since he that to all else did never fail Of as much as could be perform'd by man Proves only Ice to her.

_Brun._ 'Tis excellent.

_Bawd._ The Physitian Helps ever at a dead lift; a fine calling, That can both raise, and take down, out upon thee.

_Brun._ For this one service [I am] ever thine, Prepare it; I'll give it him my self, for you _Protaldye_, By this kiss, and our promis'd sport at night, Doe conjure you to bear up, not minding The opposition of _Theodoret_, Or any of his followers; What so ere You are, yet appear valiant, and make good The opinion that is had of you: For my self In the new Queens remove, being made secure, Fear not, I'll make the future building sure. [_Exeunt._

[_Wind horns._

_Enter Theodoret, Thierry._

_Theod._ This Stag stood well, and cunningly.

_Thierry._ My horse, I'm sure, has found it, for her sides are Blooded from flank to shoulder, where's the troop?

_Enter Martell._

_Theodoret._ Past homeward, weary and tir'd as we are, Now _Martell_, have you remembred what we thought of?

_Mart._ Yes Sir, I have snigled him, and if there be Any desert in his blood, beside the itch, Or manly heat, but what decoctions Leaches, and callises have cram'd into him, Your Lordship shall know perfect.

_Thier._ What's that, may not I know too?

_Theod._ Yes Sir, To that end we cast the project.

_Thierry._ What [ist]?

_Mart._ A desire Sir, Upon the gilded flag your Graces favor Has stuck up for a Generall, and to inform you, For this hour he shall pass the test, what valour, Staid judgement, soul, or safe discretion Your mothers wandring eyes, and your obedience Have flung upon us, to assure your knowledge, He can be, dare be, shall be, must be nothing, Load him with piles of honors; Set him off With all the cunning foyls that may deceive us: But a poor, cold, unspirited, unmanner'd, Unhonest, unaffected, undone, fool, And most unheard of coward, a meer lump Made to loade beds withall, and like a night-mare, Ride Ladies that forget to say their prayers, One that dares only be diseas'd, and in debt, Whose body mewes more plaisters every month, Than women doe old faces.

_Thier._ No more, I know him, I now repent my error, take your time And try him home, ever thus far reserv'd, You tie your anger up.

_Mart._ I lost it else Sir.

_Thier._ Bring me his sword fair taken without violence, For that will best declare him.

_Theod._ That's the thing.

_Th[ie]r._ And my best horse is thine.

_Mart._ Your Graces servant. [_Exit._

_Theod._ [You'le] hunt no more Sir.

_Thier._ Not to day, the weather Is grown too warm, besides the dogs are spent, We'll take a cooler morning, let's to horse, And hollow in the troop. [_Exeunt. Wind horns._

_Enter 2 Huntsmen._

_1._ I marry Twainer, This woman gives indeed, these are the Angels That are the keepers saints.

_2._ I like a woman That handles the deers dowsets with discretion; And payes us by proportion.

_1._ 'Tis no treason To think this good old Lady has a stump yet That may require a corrall.

_2._ And the bells too.

_Enter Protaldye._

Shee has lost a friend of me else, but here's the clark, No more for feare o'th' bell ropes.

_Prota._ How now Keepers, Saw you the King?

_1._ Yes Sir, he's newly mounted, And as we take 't ridden home.

_Pro._ Farew[e]ll then. [_Exit Keepers._

_Enter Martell._

My honour'd Lord, Fortune has made me happy To meet with such a man of men to side me.

_Protald._ How Sir? I know ye not Nor what your fortune means.

_Mart._ Few words shall serve, I am betrai'd Sir: Innocent and honest; malice and violence, Are both against me, basely and foully layd for; For my life Sir, danger is now about me, Now in my throat Sir.

_Protald._ Where Sir?

_Mart._ Nay I fear not, And let it now powr down in storms upon me, I have met with a noble guard.

_Prot._ Your meaning Sir, For I have present business.

_Mart._ O my Lord, Your honor cannot leave a gentleman At least a fair design of this brave nature, To which your worth is wedded, your profession Hatcht in, and made one peece in such a perill, There are but six my Lord.

_Prot._ What six?

_Mart._ Six villains sworn, and in pay to kill me.

_Protaldye._ Six?

_Mart._ Alas Sir, what can six do, or sixscore, now you are present? Your name will blow 'em off: say they have shot too, Who dare present a peece? your valour's proof Sir.

_Prot._ No, I'll assure you Sir, nor my discretion Against a multitude; 'Tis true, I dare fight Enough, and well enough, and long enough: But wisedome Sir, and weight of what is on me, In which I am no more mine own, nor yours Sir, Nor as I take it any single danger, But what concerns my place, tel[l]s me directly, Beside my person, my fair reputation, If I thrust into crowds, and seek occasions Suffers opinion, six? Why _Hercules_ Avoyded two men, yet not to give example; But only for your present dangers sake Sir, Were there but four Sir, I car'd not if I kill'd them, They will serve to whet my sword.

_Mart._ There are but four Sir, I did mistake them; but four such as _Europe_, Excepting your great valour.

_Prot._ Well consider'd, I will not meddle with 'em, four in honor, Are equall with fourscore, besides they're people Only directed by their fury.

_Mart._ So much nobler shall be your way of justice.

_Prot._ That I find not.

_Mart._ You will not leave me thus?

_Prot._ I would not leave you, but look you Sir, Men of my place and business, must not Be question'd thus.

_Mart._ You cannot pass Sir, Now they have seen me with you without danger. They are here Sir, within hearing, take but two.

_Prot._ Let the law take 'em; take a tree Sir I'll take my horse, that you may keep with safety, If they have brought no hand-saws, within this hour I'll send you rescue, and a toyl to take 'em.

_Mart._ You shall not goe so poorly, stay but one Sir.

_Prot._ I have been so hamper'd with these rescues, So hew'd an[d] tortur'd, that the truth is Sir, I have mainly vowd against 'em, yet for your sake, If as you say there be but one, I'll stay, And see fair play o' both sides.

_Mart._ There is no More Sir, and as I doubt a base one too.

_Prot._ Fie on him, goe lug him out by th' ears.

_Mart._ Yes, This is he Sir, the basest in the kingdome.

_Prot._ Do you know me?

_Mart._ Yes, for a generall fool, A knave, a coward, and upstart stallion baw[d], Beast, barking puppy, that dares not bite.

_Prot._ The best man best knows patience.

_Mart._ Yes, This way Sir, now draw your sword, and right you, Or render it to me, for one you shall doe.

_Pro._ If wearing it may do you any honor, I shall be glad to grace you, there it is Sir.

_Mart._ Now get you home, and tell your Lady Mistris, Shee has shot up a sweet mushrum; quit your place too, And say you are counsel'd well, thou wilt be beaten else By thine own lanceprisadoes; when they know thee, That tuns of oyl of roses will not cure thee; Goe get you to your foyning work at Court, And learn to sweat again, and eat dry mutton; An armor like a frost will search your bones And make you roar you rogue; Not a reply, For if you doe, your ears goe off.

_Prot._ Still patience. [_Exeunt._

[_Loud musick, A Banquet set out._

_Enter Thierry, Ordella, Brunhalt, Theodoret, Lecure,_ _Bawd[b]er, &c._

_Thier._ It is your place, and though in all things else You may and ever shall command me, yet In this I'll be obeyed.

_Ordella._ Sir, the consent, That made me yours, shall never teach me to Repent I am so; yet be you but pleas'd To give me leave to say so much; The honor You offer me were better given to her, To whom you owe the power of giving.

_Thier._ Mother, You hear this and rejoyce in such a blessing That payes to you so large a share of duty, But fie no more, for as you hold a place Nearer my heart than she, you must sit nearest To all those graces, that are in the power Of Majesty to bestow.

_Brun._ Which I'll provide, Shall be short liv'd _Lecure_.

_Lecure._ I have it ready.

_Brun._ 'Tis well, wait on our cup.

_Lecure._ You honor me.

_Thier._ We are dull, No object to provoke mirth.

_Theod. Martell_, If you remember Sir, will grace your Feast, With some thing that will yield matter of mirth, Fit for no common view.

_Thier._ Touching _Protaldye_.

_Theod._ You have it.

_Brun._ What of him? I fear his baseness [_aside._ In spight of all the titles that my favours Have cloth'd him, which will make discovery Of what is yet conceal'd.

_Enter Martell._

_Theod._ Look Sir, he has it, Nay we shall have peace when so great a soldier As the renoun'd _P[ro]taldye_, will give up His sword rather then use it.

_Brun._ 'Twas thy plot, Which I will turn on thine own head. [_aside._

_Thie._ Pray you speak, How won you him to part from't?

_Mart._ Won him Sir, He would have yielded it upon his knees Before he would have hazarded the exchange Of a phil[l]ip of the forehead: had you will'd me I durst have undertook he should have sent you His Nose, provided that the loss of it Might have sav'd the rest of his face: he is, Sir The most unutterable coward that e'er nature Blest with hard shoulders, which were only given him, To the ruin of bastinados.

_Thier._ Possible?

_Theod._ Observe but how she frets.

_Mart._ Why believe it: But that I know the shame of this disgrace, Will make the beast to live with such, and never Presume to come more among men; I'll hazard My life upon it, that a boy of twelve Should scourge him hither like a Parish Top, And make him dance before you.

_Brun._ Slave thou liest, Thou dar'st as well speak Treason in the hearing Of those that have the power to punish it, As the least syllable of this before him, But 'tis thy hate to me.

_Martel._ Nay, pray you Madam, I have no ears to hear you, though a foot To let you understand what he is.

_Brun._ Villany.

_Theod._ You are too violent.

_Enter_ Protaldye.

The worst that can come Is blanketing; for beating, and such virtues I have been long acquainted with.

_Mart._ Oh strange!

_Bawdb._ Behold the man you talk of.

_Brun._ Give me leave, Or free thy self, (think in what place you are) From the foul imputation that is laid Upon thy valour (be bold, I'll protect you) Or here I vow (deny it or forswear it) These honors which thou wear'st unworthily, Which be but impudent enough, and keep them, Shall be torn from thee with thy eyes.

_Prot._ I have it, My v[a]lour! is there any here beneath, The stile of King, dares question it?

_Thier._ This is rare.

_Prot._ Which of [my] actions, which have still been noble, Has rend'rd me suspected?

_Thier._ Nay _Martel[l]_ You must not fall off.

_Mart._ Oh Sir, fear it not, Doe you know this sword?

_Prot._ Yes.

_Mart._ Pray you on what terms Did you part with it?

_Prot._ Part with it say you?

_Mart._ So.

_Thier._ Nay, study not an answer, confess freely.

_Prot._ Oh I remember't now at the Stags [fall], As we to day were hunting, a poor fellow, And now I view you better, I may say Much of your pitch: this silly wretch I spoke of With his petition falling at my feet, (Which much against my Will he kist,) desir'd That as a special means for his preferment I would vouchsafe to let him use my sword, To cut off the Stags head.

_Brun._ Will you hear that?

_Bawdb._ This Lye bears a similitude of Truth.

_Prot._ I ever courteous, (a great weakness in me) Granted his humble suit.

_Mart._ Oh impudence!

_Thier._ This change is excellent.

_Mart._ A word with you, Deny it not, I was that man disguis'd, You know my temper, and as you respect A daily cudgeling for one whole year, Without a second pulling by the ears, Or tweaks by th' nose, or the most precious balm You us'd of patience, patience do you mark me, Confess before these Kings with what base fear Thou didst deliver it.

_Prot._ Oh, I sh[all] burst, And if I have not instant liberty To tear this fellow limb by limb, the wrong Will break my heart, although _Herculean_, And somewhat bigger; there's my gage, pray you he[re], Let me redeem my credit.

_Thier._ Ha, ha, forbear.

_Mart._ Pray you let me take it up, and if I do not, Against all odds of Armor and of Weapons, With this make him confess it on his knees Cut off my head.

_Prot._ No, that's my office.

_Bawdb._ Fie, you take the Hangmans place.

_Ordel._ Nay, good my Lord Let me attone this difference, do not suffer Our bridal night to be the Centaurs Feast. [You are] a Knight, and bound by oath to grant All just suits unto Ladies; for my sake Forget your suppos'd wrong.

_Prot._ Well let him thank you, For your sake he shall live, perhaps a day, And may be, on submission longer.

_Theod._ Nay _Martel[l]_ you must be patient.

_Mart._ I am yours, And this slave shall be once more mine.

_Thier._ Sit all; One health, and so to bed, for I too long Deferr my choicest delicates.

_Brun._ Which if poison Have any power, thou shalt like _Tantalus_ Behold and never taste, be careful.

_Lecu._ Fear not.

_Brun._ Though it be rare in our Sex, yet for once I will begin a health.

_Thier._ Let it come freely.

_Brun. Lecure_, the cup; here to the son we hope This night shall be an Embrion.