Part 5

_Quee._ Where is this King? this King? this tyrant? He That would be cald The iust and righteous King, When in his actions he is most vniust; Beyond example, cruell, tyrannous? Where is my daughter? Where’s _Leonida_? Where is _Lusippus_ too, my first borne hope? And where is deare _Lorenzo_? dead? all dead? And would to God I were intomb’d with them, Emptie of substance. Curse of Soueraigntie, That feed’st thy fancie with deluding hopes Of fickle shadowes; promising to one, Eternitie of fame; and vnto all, To be accounted wise and vertuous, Obseruing but your Lawes and iust decrees; That vnder shew of being mercifull, Art most vnkind, and cruell: nay, ’tis true. Goe where thou wilt, still will I follow thee, And with my sad laments still beat thy eares, Till all the world of thy iustice heares. _Ex. King, and Qu._

_Nic._ This Physick works too strongly, and may proue a deadly potion. _Sforza_, good my Lord, if any anger be ’twixt you and I, let it lye buried now; and let’s deuise some pastime to suppresse this heauinesse. A melancholy King makes a sad Court.

_Iag._ I neuer heard him speake so carefully Of the Kings welfare. I, with all my heart.

_Sfor._ Who’le vndertake this charge?

_Nic._ I will, my Lord: Let the deuice be mine.

_Iag._ I’le get the Amazon to ioyne with you: Her rare inuention, and experience too, In forraine Countries may auaile you much, In some new quaint conceit.

_Nic._ Doe, good my Lord: I’de ha’t assoone presented as I could.

_Iag._ Tonight, if it be possible: farewell. I must goe looke her out.

_Nic._ Ha, ha, ha, ha. So by this meanes, I shall expresse may selfe Studious and carefull.

SCEN. III.

_Enter_ ATLANTA _and_ AVRELIA.

_Aur._ But dost thou thinke hee’le come?

_Att._ He cannot chuse. I sent him such a louing answer backe By his Solliciter, able to make An Eunuch to come with the conceit. The houre’s almost at hand. Madam, command A banquet be set forth: My charge shall be

_Enter with a Banquet, Women._

To giue him intertainement: whilst your Grace, _Loretta_, and the Ladies of your traine, Or any others you shall please to appoint, Be ready to surprise him. So ’tis well. Now leaue the rest to mee.

_Aur._ My deare _Atlanta_, I commend thy care.

_Att._ Call it my dutie, Madam, and the loue I owe to sacred vertue, to defend The same of women. All withdraw awhile, _Ex. Women._ I thinke I heare him comming. I, ’tis he.

_Enter_ Misogynos _and Swash_.

_Swash._ This is the place, Sir, she appoynted you.

_Mis._ Is this the Orchard then, Where I must pluck the fruit from that faire tree?

_Swash._ I would it might proue Stone-fruit, And so choke him.

_Mis._ Ha! what’s here? a banquet?

_Swa._ Banquet? Where?

_Mis._ Readie prepar’d? why, this is excellent! What a kind creature ’tis?

_Swa._ Did not I say How monstrously she lou’d you? Come, fall to.

_Mis._ Before my Mistresse come?

_Swa._ I’faith Sir, I; This is but onely a prouocatiue, To make you strong and lustie for the incounter.

_Mis._ And here’s Wine too; Nothing but Bloud and Spirit. Fall to, _Swash_.

_Swa._ A sweetthing is loue, That fills both heart and mind: There is no comfort in the world, To women that are kind. Here, Sir, I’le drinke to you.

_Mis._ I would she would come away once: Now, methinks, I could performe. And see! but wish and haue.

_Enter_ Atlanta.

_Atlan._ Oh, are you come? I see you keep your houre.

_Mis._ I should be sorry else.

_Atl._ Nay, keepe your place.

_Mis._ Will you sit downe then? Sirrah? Walke aloofe.

_Atl._ Let him be doing something. Here, take this.

_Mis._ I haue made bold to taste your Wine and Cates. And when you please, we’le try the operation.

_Atl._ How?

_Mis._ You know my mind.

_Atlan._ You men are all so fickle, that poore we Doe not know whom to trust. But doe you loue me truely?

_Mis._ By this kisse.

_Atl._ No, saue that labour, Sir: I’le take your word. Yet, how should I beleeue you, when so late You rail’d against our Sex, and slander’d vs?

_Mis._ Oh doe not thinke of that, that’s done and gone. Doe not recall what’s past. I now recant: And (by this hand) I loue thee truly, Loue.

_Atl._ May I beleeue all this?

_Mis._ Come hither, _Swash_. How often haue I sworne to thee alone, I lou’d this Lady; neuer none but shee?

_Swa._ Yes truely, that he has.

_Mis._ You may be proud, I tell you, of my loue, There is a thousand Women in this Towne, To imbrace me, would clap their hands for ioy, And run like so many wild Cats.

_Swa._ That they would, I dare be sworne for vm, And hang about him like so many Catch-poles, He would ne’r get from vm, And yet this happinesse is profer’d you.

_Atl._ Which I cannot refuse, You haue, you know, such a preuayling tongue, No woman can deny you any thing.

_Mis._ Why, that was kindly spoke. Where shall wee meet?

_Atl._ Hearke in your eare, I’le tell you.

_Mis._ Best of all.

_Atl._ But—

_Mis._ Doe you thinke mesuch a foole?

_Atl._ Till then farewell: I’le speedily returne. _Ex. Atl._

_Mis._ Why law now, _Swash_, I told thee she would yeeld, No woman in the world can hold out long. Oh beware when a man of Art courts a woman.

_Swa._ I, or a Fencer, Sir: We lay vm flat before vs. But, pray you tell me, Master, Doe you loue This Lasse sincerely?

_Mis._ Ha, ha, ha. Loue? that were a iest indeed, To passe away the time for sport, or so; Th’are made for nothing else: And he that loues vm longer, is a foole.

_Swa._ Me thinkes ’tis pittie to delude her, Sir: I’faith she’s a handsome wench.

_Mis._ Away, you Asse. Delude? what are they good for else?

_Enter_ Atlanta.

She comes againe. Out of the Orchard, _Swash_. Welcome, Sweet heart.

_Atl._ Are you in priuate, Sir?

_Mis._ There’s not an eye vnder the Horizon That can behold vs; If Suspicion tell, I’le beat her blind as euer Fencer was.

_Atl._ Sir, now you talke of Fencing, I heare you Professe that noble Science.

_Mis._ ’Tis most true.

_Atl._ I loue you, Sir, the better; ’tis a thing I honour with my heart. If any one Should scandalize or twit me with your loue, You can defend my fame, and make such men—

_Mis._ Creepe on their knees, aske thee forgiuenesse, Or any other base submission.

_Atl._ Oh, what a happinesse shall I inioy? But can can you doe this if occasion serue?

_Mis._ Would some were here to make experience, That thou mightst see my skill.

_Atl._ Sir, that will I. _Strike him._

_Mis._ How’s this?

_Atl._ Impudent slaue, How dar’st thou looke a woman in the face, Or commence loue to any: Specially to mee? Thou know’st I’me vow’d thy publique enemie, Which this, and this, and this shall testifie.

_Mis._ Oh that I had a weapon, thou shouldst know, A thousand women could not stand one blow, From my vnconquerd arme.

_Atl._ That shall be tride. I’le fit you, Sir, in your owne element. I thinke thou darest not looke vpon a sword. See, there’s a foyle: I will but thumpe you, Sir. Thy life’s reseru’d vnto a worse reuenge. _Play._

_Mis._ Oh. Some Deuil’s enterd in this Idol sure, To make mee misbelieue. Oh.

_Atl._ Cowardly slaue. A Fencer? you a Fidler. He cannot hold his weapon, Gard his brest; no, nor defend a thrust. Art not asham’d Thus to disgrace that noble exercise?

_Mis._ Oh: Hold, hold; I yeeld, I yeeld.

_Atl._ Has our Countrie meats fed you so high, You needs must haue a stale for your base lust? I’le satiate your sences ere I haue done: And so much for your feeling: For your taste, You haue had sufficient in your sweet-meats, Sir: Your drinke too was perfum’d to please your smell.

_Mis._ I, but I haue had but sowre sauce to vm.

_Atl._ Why then the Prouerbe holds. Now for your sight. Madam, Come forth, and bring your followers.

_Enter all the Women._

_Mis._ I’de rather see so many Cockatrices. Oh that my eyes might be for euer shut, So that I might ne’r behold these Crocadils.

_Aur._ Where’s this bawling Bandog.

_Omnes._ Here, here, here, here.

_Mis._ Murder, murder, murder. I’me betraid. I shall be torne in pieces. Murder, ho.

_Aur._ Is this the dogged Humorist that cals Himselfe the woman-hater?

_Mis._ On my knees.

_Aur._ Dost thou reply, vile Monster? Binde him, come.

_Old W._ Let me come to him, Ile so mumble him.

_Aur._ Remember faire _Leonida_ my child, Whose innocence was made a Sacrifice To thy base Forgeries and Sophistrie.

_Omnes._ Out, you abominable Rascall.

_Aur._ This for your hearing, Sir: now all is full.

_Mis._ Ladies, Gentlewomen, sweet _Atlanta_, all, Heare me but speake.

_Lor._ No, not a syllable. You haue spoke to match alreadie, you damn’d Rogue. But weele reward you for’t. Skrew his iawes.

_Mis._ Oh, oh, oh.

_Aur._ Now, thou inhumane wretch, what punishment Shall we inuent sufficient to inflict, According to the height of our reuenge?

_Omnes._ Let’s teare his limmes in pieces, ioynt from ioynt.

_Mis._ Oh, oh.

_Scold._ Three or foure paire of Pincers, now red hot, Were excellent.

_Lor._ Will not our Bodkings serue?

_Aur._ Hang him, Slaue, shall he dye as noble a death As _Cæsar_ did? No, no: pinch him, pricke him.

_A Boy._ I haue small Pins enow to serue vs all.

_Scold._ We cannot wish for better: take him vp, And bind him to this Post.

_Lor._ Faith, Post and Paire, As good a Game as can be.

_Aur._ Come, let’s to’t, Shuffle the Cards, and leaue out all the Knaues.

_Atl._ No, the Knaues in at Post, and out at Paire.

_Aur._ Shall it be so? Agreed? Deale round.

_Scold._ First, stake.

_Mis._ Oh, oh, oh, oh.

_Atl._ Passe.

_Aur._ Passe.

_Lor._ Nay, Ile not passe it so. _Mis._ Oh, oh.

_A Boy._ Faith, Ile be in too,

_Mis._ Oh!

_Enter two Old Women and Swash._

_Aur._ Againe, for me too, I will vye it. _Mis._ Oh.

_Atl._ And for me, Ile not deny it. _Mis._ Oh.

_Lor._ Ile see you, and revy’t agen. _Mis._ Oh, oh.

_Scold._ For your two, Ile put in ten. _Mis._ Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

_Aur._ How now? stay, who’s this?

_Swash._ I could not find the way out of the Orchard, If I should ha’ beene hang’d, but fell into these Old Women s mouthes: but the best is, They had no teeth to bite me, but my Grandame heere Scratches most deuillishly.

_Atl._ Here’s a Whelpe of the same Litter too. Come hither Sirrah, doe you know this man?

_Swash._ Yes, forsooth, I know him, He was my Master once, want of a better.

_Lor._ Then you were one of his Confederates, Sir.

_Swash._ I his Confederate? I defye him, He knowes I alwayes gaue him good counsell, If he had had the grace to follow it: Here he is himselfe, let him deny’t if he can.

_Mis._ Oh, oh, oh.

_Swash._ Did not I euer say, Master, take heed, Wrong not kind Gentlewomen, Honest louing women? Many a time Haue I beene beaten by him blacke and blue, For looking on a woman, is’t not true?

_Mis._ Oh, oh.

_Swash._ You seehis bringing vp, To make a mouth at all this companie.

_Aur._ This is an honest fellow; he shall escape. Sirrah, thou lou’st a woman?

_Swash._ I, with all my heart.

_Scold._ He lookes as if he did.

_Atl._ Well, stand aside, weele imploy you anon: Forbeare your tortors yet, something is hid, That we must haue reueal’d, and he himselfe Shall be his owne accuser: you all know, He hath arraign’d vs for inconstancie: But now weele arraigne him, and iudge him too, This is womans counsell: Madame, we make you Ladie Chiefe Iustice of this Female Court, Mistris Recorder, I. _Loretta_, you, Sit for the Notarie: _Crier_, she: The rest shall beare inferior Offices, As Keepers, Seriants, Executioners.

_Swash._ Ide rather be a Hangman then a Seriant: Yet there’s no great difference, if one will not, T’other must.

_Atl._ Mother, goe you and call a Iurie full, Of which y’are the fore-woman.

_1. Old W._ Thanke you forsooth, Ile fetch one presently: ’Tis fit he should be scratcht, and please your Grace: Sure, he is no man.

_Atl._ We want a Barre. O, these two foyles shall serue: One stucke i’ the Earth, and crosse it from this Tree. Now take your places, bring him to the Barre, Sirrah, vngag him.

_Swash._ Let him be gag’d still: Then you are sure what e’r you say to him, He cannot contradict you.

_Atl._ Pull it out.

_Swash._ Doe not bite y’are best.

_Mis._ Oh, that I were a Serpent for your sakes, Bearing a thousand stings.

_Aur._ Worse then thou art, Thou canst not wish to be, abortiue wretch. Bring him to the Barre.

_Swash._ You’ld not be rul’d by me: I told you o’this, And now you see what followes, Hanging’s the least, what-cu’r followes that.

_Aur._ Clarke of the Peace, Reade the Indictment.

_Scold._ Silence in the Court.

_Swash._ Silence? & none but women? That were strange!

_Lor._ _Misogynos_, hold vp thy hand.

_Swash._ His name is _Swetnam_, not _Misogynos_. That’s but a borrowed name.

_Mis._ Peace, you Rogue, Will you discouer me?

_Aur._ _Swetnam_ is his name.

_Swash._ I, _Ioseph Swetnam_, that’s his name, forsooth, _Ioseph_ the Iew was a better Gentile farre.

_Lor._ Then _Ioseph Swetnam, alias Misogynos, Alias Molastomus, alias_ the _Woman-hater_.

_Swash._ How came he by all these names? I haue heard many say, he was neu’r christen’d.

_Lor._ Thou art here indicted by these names, that thou, Contrary to nature, and the peace of this Land, Hast wickedly and maliciously slandred, Maligned, and opprobriously defamed the ciuill societie Of the whole Sex of women: therefore speake, Guiltie, or not guiltie?

_Mis._ Not guiltie.

_Swash._ Hum.

_Omnes._ Not guiltie.

_Mis._ No, not guiltie.

_Aur._ Darest thou denie a truth so manifest? Didst thou not lately both by word, and deed, Publish a Pamphlet in disgrace of vs, And of all women-kind?

_Mis._ No, no, no, not I.

_Swash._ Hum.

_Atl._ Calling vs tyrannous, ambitious, cruell?

_Aur._ Comparing vs to Serpents, Crocodiles For Dissimulation, _Hiena’s_ for Subtilties, Such like?

_Lor._ And farre worse: That we are all the Deuils agents, To seduce Man agen?

_Scold._ That all our studies are but to delude Our credulous Husbands?

_Mis._ I denie all this.

_Swash._ Hum.

_Lor._ Nay more, Thou dost affirme, without distinction, All married Wiues are the Deuils Hackneyes, To carrie their Husbands to Hell.

_Aur._ Inhumane Monster, hast thou neu’r a Mother?

_Swash._ No, forsooth, he is a _Succubus_, begot Betwixt a Deuill and a Witch.

_Mis._ If I did any such, let it be produc’d.

_Atl._ Bring in the Books for a firme Euidence, And bid the Iurie giue the Verdict vp.

_Enter two Old Women._

_Old W._ Guiltie, guiltie, guiltie. Guiltie of Woman-slander, and defamation.

_Atl._ Produce the Bookes, and reade the Title of vm.

_Lor._ The Arraignment of idle, froward, And vnconstant women.

_Aur._ What say you, Sir, to this?

_Mis._ Shew me my name, and then Ile yeeld vnto’t.

_Aur._ No, that’s your policie and cowardise, You durst not publish, what you dar’d to write, Thy man is witnesse to’t: sirrah, confesse, Or you shall eu’n be seru’d of the same sawce.

_Swash._ No, no, no, no, Ile tell you all, He is no Fencer, that’s but for a shew, For feare of being beaten: the best Clarke, For cowardise that can be in the World, To terrifie the Female Champions, He was in England, a poore Scholer first, And came to Medley, to eate Cakes and Creame, At my old Mothers house, she trusted him: At least some sixteene shillings o’the score, And he perswaded her, he would make me A Scholer of the Niniuersitie, which she, kind Foole, beleeu’d: He neu’r taught me any Lesson, but to raile against women, That was my morning and my euening Lecture. And in one yeere he runne away from thence, And then he tooke the habit of a Fencer: And set vp Schoole at Bristow: there he liu’d A yeere or two, till he had writ this Booke: And then the women beat him out the Towne, And then we came to London: there forsooth, He put his Booke i’the Presse, and publisht it, And made a thousand men and wiues fall out. Till two or three good wenches, in meere spight, Laid their heads together, and rail’d him out of th’ Land, Then we came hither: this is all forsooth.

_Aur._ ’Tis eu’n enough.

_Mis._ ’Tis all as false as women.

_Omnes._ Stop his mouth.

_Atlan._ Either be quiet, or y’are gag’d agen.

_Aur._ Proceed in Iudgement.

_Atlan._ Madame, thus it is. First, he shall weare this Mouzell, to expresse His barking humour against women-kind. And he shall be led, and publike showne, In euery Street i’ the Citie, and be bound In certaine places to a Post or Stake, And bayted by all the honest women in the Parish.

_Mis._ Is that the worst? there will not one be found In all the Citie.

_Omnes._ Out, you lying Rascall. Forbeare a little.

_Atlan._ Then he shal be whipt quite thorow the Land, Till he come to the Sea-Coast, and then be shipt, And sent to liue amongst the Infidels.

_Omnes._ Oh, the Lord preserue your Grace.

_Lor._ Oh, oh, oh.

_Aur._ Call in his Bookes, And let vm all be burn’d and cast away, And his Arraignment now put i’the Presse, That he may liue a shame vnto his Sex.

_Atlan._ Sirrah, the charge be yours: which if you faile, You shall be vs’d so too: if well perform’d, You shall be well rewarded. Breake vp Court.

_Omnes._ Away, you bawling Mastiffe.

_Clow._ Pish, pish. _Exeunt._

_Enter_ Atticus, Sforza, Nicanor, _and one or two Lords more_.

_King._ Why doe you thus pursue me? Can no place Shelter a King from being bayted thus With Acclamations beyond sufferance Of Maiestie, or mortall strength to beare? We will indure’t no longer. Where’s our Guard? Where is _Aurelia_? where’s _Iago_ gone? To studie new Inuectiues? If agen They dare but vtter the least syllable, Or smallest title of inueteracie, They shall not breathe a minute. Must a Prince Be checkt, and schooled, pursued and scolded at, For executing Iustice?

_Nic._ Royall, Sir. Be pleased, to cast away these Discontents. _Iago’s_ sorrie for his bold offence. The Queene repents her too, and all the Court Is clowded o’r with griefe: your sadnesse, Sir, Fils euery Subiects heart with heauinesse. Will’t please your Highnesse to behold some pastime, There is a Maske and other sports prepar’d: Prepared to solace you, To steale away your sorrowes.

_King._ Who’s that spoke? _Nicanor_, is’t hee? I thought as much: I knew no other would be halfe so kind, Nor carefull of our health: doe what thou wilt, We will deny nothing that thou demandest, My dearest Comforter, stay to my age, The hope of Sicilie lyes now in thee. Come sit by vs, weele see what new deuice Thy diligence——_Nic._ My dutie.

_King._ No, thy loue Hath studied to delight thy Soueraigne. Come sit, _Nicanor_.

_Nic._ Pardon, Sir, awhile, Ile giue command to see it straight perform’d, And instantly returne.

_King._ Make no delay: We haue no ioy but in thy companie.

_Nic._ Nor I no Hell, but thy continuance. Ile present that will shorten it, I hope.

_King._ _Sforza_, thou louest me too: come neerer vs: But old _Iago_ is a froward Lord, Honest, but lenatiue, ore-swaid too much With pitt e against Iustice, that’s not good: Indeed it is not in a Counsellar. And he has too much of woman, otherwise He might be Ruler of a Monarchie, For policie and wisdome. _Sforza_ sit, Take you your places to behold this Maske.

_Enter_ Nicanor.

_Nic._ Now they are readie.

_King._ Let vm enter then. Come sit by vs, _Nicanor_, and describe The meaning, as they enter.

_Enter_ Iago, _and the Queene_.

_Iag._ Heere your Grace May vndiscouered sit, and view the Maske, And see how ’tis affected by the King: I know, 'twill nip him to the verie soule. The Maskers. _Enter Musike, dance._

_Nic._ He that leads the Dance, Is called wilfull Ignorance.

_King._ The next that pryes on euery side, As if feare his feet did guide, Is held a wretch of base condition, He is titled false Suspition.

_Nic._ The third is of a bolder Faction, But more deadly, ’tis Detraction. The last is Crueltie, a King that long, In seeming good, did sacred Iustice wrong.

_King._ This Moral’s meant by me: by heauen it is, By Heauen, indeed: for nothing else had power To make me see my Follies. I confesse, ’Twas wilfull Ignorance, and Selfe-conceit, Sooth’d with Hypocrisie, that drew me first Into suspition of my Daughters loue, And call’d it Disobedience: false Suspect, ’Twas thou possest me, that _Leonida_ Was spotted and vnchaste.

_Nic._ So, now it workes.

_King._ And then Detraction prou’d a deadly Foe.

_Iag._ I knew ’twould take effect.

_Aur._ Most happily.

_King._ I am that King did sacred Iustice wrong, Vnder a shew of Iustice, now ’tis plaine, It was my crueltie, not her desert, That sacrific’d my Child to pallid Death. _Lisandro_ flew himselfe, but I, not he Must answere for that guiltlesse bloud was spilt: For I was Authour on’t, my Crueltie, Diuorcing two such Louers, was the cause That drew him to despayre. How they all gaze, Whisper together, and then point at me, As if they here had being! yes they haue: But it shall proue a restlesse bed for them. Why doe they not begin?

_Enter Repentance._

_Nic._ Belike they want some of their companie.

_King._ But stay, who’s that descends so prosperously, With such sweet sounding Musike? All obserue.

_Musike, dance._

_Nic._ See how the splendor of that Maiestie, That came from Heauen, hath disperst away Suspition, Ignorance, and Crueltie, And instantly o’rcome Detraction too, Those enemies to vertue, foes to man, Are vanisht from my sight, and from my heart. But let Repentance stay. Ha, shallow Foole, Doe I so slightly bid her? On my knees, She must be followed, call’d and su’d vnto. And by continuall Prayers, woo’d, and wonne, Which I will neuer cease, if not too late. I doe repent me, let this Sacrifice Make satisfaction for those fore-past Crimes My ignorant soule committed.

_Repen._ ’Tis accepted. Imbrace me freely, rise: neuer too late To call vpon Repentance.

_Nic._ I am trapt. Oh, the great Deuill! whose deuice was this? Now all will be reueal’d, I neuer dream’t Vpon Repentance, I: but now I see, Truth will discouer all mens Trecherie.

_King._ Liue euer in my bosome. What meanes this?

_Enter_ Lorenzo, Lisandro, Leonida, _a Siluan Nymph_.

_Lor._ If a Siluan’s rude behauiour May not heere despaire of fauour: Then to thee this newes I bring, Thou art call’d the righteous King, And as Fame do’s make report, Heere liues Iustice in thy Court: Know, that all the Happinesse I did in this World possesse, Was my onely Daughter, who _Pan_ did on my age bestow, She was named _Claribell_, Whom _Palemon_ loued well: And she lou’d him as well againe; So that nothing did remaine, But the tying _Hymens_ Knot. But it chanced so, God wot, That an old decrepit man Most prepostrously began, With flatt’ring words to woo my Daughter, But being still deny’d, he after Turn’d his loue to mortall hate _Claribell_ to ruinate, Striuing to o’rpresse her fame, With Lust, Contempt, Reproch, and Shame.

_Kin._ What wouldst thou haue Vs doe? Good Father, speake.

_Lor._ This fellow hath subborn’d a rout Ofsome base Villaines here-about, To take away my daughters life, Or else to rauish her. To end this strife Be pleas’d to ioyne these Louers hands Into sacred nuptiall bands.

_Sfor._ Nothing but put vm both together, Sir. The good old Shepheard would faine ha’t a match.

_Kin._ We are content. Come giue Vs both your hands.

_Lor._ You are a King; yet they are loth To take your word without an othe.