Part 4

_Chi._ What a young whore's this to betray her Mistris? A thousand Cuckolds shall that Husband be, That marries thee, thou art so mischievous. I'le put a spoak among your wheels.

_Clean._ Be constant.

_Priest._ 'Tis done.

_Chi._ I'le doe no more at drop shot then. [_Exit_ Chilax.

_Pri._ Farewel wench. [_Exeunt Priest and_ Cleanthe.

_Actus Quartus. Scena Prima._

_Enter a Servant, and_ Stremon, _at the door_.

_Servant._ He stirs, he stirs.

_Strem._ Let him, I am ready for him, He shall not this day perish, if his passions May be fed with Musick; are they ready?

_Enter_ Memnon.

_Ser._ All, all: see where he comes.

_Strem._ I'le be straight for him. [_Exit_ Stremon.

_Enter_ Eumenes, _and Captains_.

_Ser._ How sad he looks and sullen! [_Stand close._ Here are the Captains: my fear's past now.

_Mem._ Put case i'th' other world She do not love me neither? I am old 'tis certain.

_Eumen._ His spirit is a little quieter.

_Mem._ My blood lost, and limbs stiff; my embraces Like the cold stubborn bark, hoarie, and heatless, My words worse: my fame only and atchievements Which are my strength, my blood, my youth, my fashion, Must wooe her, win her, wed her; that's but wind, And women are not brought to bed with shadows: I do her wrong, much wrong; she is young and blessed, Sweet as the spring, and as his blossoms tender, And I a nipping North-wind, my head hung With hails, and frostie Isicles: are the souls so too When they depart hence, lame and old, and loveless? No sure, 'tis ever youth there; Time and Death Follow our flesh no more: and that forc'd opinion That spirits have no sexes, I believe not.

_Enter_ Stremon, _like_ Orpheus.

There must be love, there is love: what art thou?

SONG.

Stre. _Orpheus I am, come from the deeps below,_ _To thee fond man the plagues of love to show:_ _To the fair fields where loves eternal dwell_ _There's none that come, but first they pass through hell:_ _Hark and beware unless thou hast lov'd ever,_ _Belov'd again, thou shalt see those joyes never._

_Hark how they groan that dy'd despairing,_ _O take heed then:_ _Hark how they howl for over-daring,_ _All these were men._

_They that be fools, and dye for fame_ _They lose their name;_ _And they that bleed_ _Hark how they speed._

_Now in cold frosts, now scorching fires_ _They sit, and curse their lost desires:_ _Nor shall these souls be free from pains and fears,_ _Till Women waft them over in their tears._

_Mem._ How should I know my passage is deni'd me? Or which of all the Devils dare?

_Eumen._ This Song Was rarely form'd to fit him.

SONG.

Orph. _Charon O Charon,_ _Thou wafter of the souls to bliss or bane._

Cha. _Who calls the Ferry-man of Hell?_

Orph. _Come near,_ _And say who lives in joy, and who in fear._

Cha. _Those that dye well, Eternal joy shall follow;_ _Those that dye ill, their own foul fate shall swallow._

Orph. _Shall thy black Bark those guilty spirits stow_ _That kill themselves for love?_

Cha. _O no, no,_ _My cordage cracks when such great sins are near,_ _No wind blows fair, nor I myself can stear._

Orph. _What lovers pass and in Elyzium raign?_

Cha. _Those Gentle loves that are belov'd again._

Orph. _This Souldier loves, and fain wou'd dye to win,_ _Shall he goe on?_

Cha. _No 'tis too foul a sin._ _He must not come aboard: I dare not row,_ _Storms of despair, and guilty blood will blow._

Orph. _Shall time release him, say?_

Cha. _No, no, no, no._ _Nor time nor death can alter us, nor prayer;_ _My boat is destinie, and who then dare_ _But those appointed come aboard? Live still,_ _And love by reason, Mortal, not by will._

Orph. _And when thy Mistris shall close up thine eyes,_

Cha. _Then come aboard and pass,_

Orph. _Till when be wise._

Cha. _Till when be wise._

_Eumen._ How still he sits: I hope this Song has setled him.

_1 Capt._ He bites his lip, and rowles his fiery eyes, yet I fear for all this--

_2 Capt._ _Stremon_ still apply to him.

_Strem._ Give me more room, sweetly strike, divinely Such strains as old earth moves at.

_Orph._ The power I have over both beast and plant, Thou man alone feelst miserable want. [_Musick._ Strike you rare Spirits that attend my will, And lose your savage wildness by my skill.

_Enter a_ Mask _of_ Beasts.

This Lion was a man of War that died, As thou wouldst do, to gild his Ladies pride: This Dog a fool that hung himself for love: This Ape with daily hugging of a glove, Forgot to eat and died. This goodly tree, An usher that still grew before his Ladie, Wither'd at root. This, for he could not wooe, A grumbling Lawyer: this pyed Bird a page, That melted out because he wanted age. Still these lye howling on the Stygian shore, O love no more, O love no more. [_Exit_ Memnon.

_Eumen._ He steals off silently, as though he would sleep, No more, but all be near him, feed his fancie Good _Stremon_ still; this may lock up his follie. Yet Heaven knows I much fear him; away softly. [_Exeunt Captains._

_Fool._ Did I not doe most doggedly?

_Strem._ Most rarelie.

_Fool._ He's a brave man, when shall we dog again?

_Boy._ Unty me first for Gods sake,

_Fool._ Help the Boy; he's in a wood poor child: good hony _Stremon_ Let's have a bear-baiting; ye shall see me play The rarest for a single Dog: at head all; And if I do not win immortal glorie, Play Dog play Devil.

_Strem._ Peace for this time.

_Fool._ Prethee Let's sing him a black Santis, then let's all howl In our own beastly voices; tree keep your time, Untye there; bow, wow, wow.

_Strem._ Away ye Asse, away.

_Fool._ Why let us doe something To satisfie the Gentleman, he's mad; A Gentleman-like humour, and in fashion, And must have men as mad about him.

_Strem._ Peace, And come in quicklie, 'tis ten to one else He'l find a staff to beat a dog; no more words, I'le get ye all imployment; soft, soft in all. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Chilax _and_ Cloe.

_Chi._ When camest thou over wench?

_Clo._ But now this evening, And have been ever since looking out _Siphax_, I'th' wars he would have lookt me: sure h'as gotten Some other Mistris?

_Chi._ A thousand, wench, a thousand, They are as common here as Caterpillers Among the corn, they eat up all the Souldiers.

_Clo._ Are they so hungry? yet by their leave _[C]hilax_, I'le have a snatch too.

_Chi._ Dost thou love him still wench?

_Clo._ Why should I not? he had my Maiden-head And all my youth.

_Chi._ Thou art come the happiest, In the most blessed time, sweet wench the fittest, If thou darst make thy fortune: by this light, _Cloe_, And so I'le kiss thee: and if thou wilt but let me, For 'tis well worth a kindness.

_Clo._ What shou'd I let ye?

_Chi._ Enjoy thy miniken.

_Clo._ Thou art still old _Chilax_.

_Chi._ Still still, and ever shall be: if, I say, Thou wo't strike the stroke: I cannot do much harm wench.

_Clo._ Nor much good.

_Chi._ _Siphax_ shall be thy Husband, Thy very Husband woman, thy fool, thy Cuckold, Or what thou wilt make him: I am over joy'd, Ravisht, clean ravisht with this fortune; kiss me, Or I shall lose my self.

_Clo._ My Husband said ye?

_Chi._ Said I? and will say, _Cloe_: nay and do it And do it home too; Peg thee as close to him As birds are with a pin to one another; I have it, I can do it: thou wantst clothes too, And hee'l be hang'd unless he marry thee E're he maintain thee: now he has Ladies, Courtiers More than his back can bend at, multitudes; We are taken up for threshers, will ye bite?

_Clo._ Yes.

_Chi._ And let me--

_Clo._ Yes and let ye--

_Chi._ What!

_Clo._ Why that ye wote of.

_Chi._ I cannot stay, take your instructions And something toward houshold, come, what ever I shall advise ye, follow it exactlie, And keep your times I point ye; for I'le tell ye A strange way you must wade through.

_Clo._ Fear not me Sir.

_Chi._ Come then, and let's dispatch this modicum, For I have but an hour to stay, a short one, Besides more water for another mill, An old weak over-shot I must provide for, There's an old Nunnerie at hand.

_Clo._ What's that?

_Chi._ A bawdie house.

_Clo._ A pox consume it.

_Chi._ If the stones 'tis built on Were but as brittle as the flesh lives in it, Your curse came handsomlie: fear not, there's ladies, And other good sad people: your pinkt Citizens Think it no shame to shake a sheet there: Come wench. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Cleanthe _and_ Siphax.

_Clean._ A Souldier and so fearfull?

_Siph._ Can ye blame me; When such a weight lies on me?

_Clean._ Fye upon ye, I tell ye, ye shall have her: have her safelie, And for your wife with her own will.

_Siph._ Good Sister--

_Cle._ What a distrustfull man are you! to morrow, To morrow morning--

_Siph._ Is it possible? Can there be such a happiness?

_Clean._ Why hang me If then ye be not married: if to morrow night, Ye doe not--

_Siph._ O dear Sister--

_Clean._ What ye wou'd doe, What ye desire to doe; lie with her: Devil, What a dull man are you!

_Siph._ Nay I believe now, And shall she love me?

_Clean._ As her life, and stroke ye.

_Siph._ O I will be her Servant.

_Clean._ 'Tis your dutie.

_Siph._ And she shall have her whole will.

_Clean._ Yes 'tis reason, She is a Princess, and by that rule boundless.

_Si._ What wou'd you be? for I wou'd have ye Sister Chuse some great place about us: as her woman Is not so fit.

_Clean._ No, no, I shall find places.

_Siph._ And yet to be a Ladie of her bed-chamber, I hold not so fit neither, Some great title, believe it, shall be look't out.

_Clean._ Ye may, a Dutchess Or such a toye, a small thing pleases me Sir.

_Sip._ What you will Sister: if a neighbour Prince, When we shall come to raign--

_Clean._ We shall think on't, Be ready at the time, and in that place too, And let me work the rest, within this half hour The Princess will be going, 'tis almost morning, Away and mind your business.

_Siph._ Fortune bless us. [_Exeunt._

_Enter King_, Polydor _and Lords_.

_Pol._ I do beseech your grace to banish me.

_King._ Why Gentleman, is she not worthy marriage?

_Pol._ Most worthy, Sir, where worth again shall meet her, But I like thick clouds sailing slow and heavy, Although by her drawn higher, yet shall hide her, I dare not be a traitor; and 'tis treason, But to imagine: as you love your honour--

_King._ 'Tis her first maiden doting, and if crost, I know it kills her.

_1 Lord._ How knows your grace she loves him?

_King._ Her woman told me all (beside his story) Her maid _Lucippe_, on what reason too, And 'tis beyond all but enjoying.

_Polydor._ Sir, Even by your wisdom; by that great discretion Ye owe to rule and order--

_2 Lord._ This man's mad sure, To plead against his fortune--

_1 Lord._ And the King too, Willing to have it so!

_Pol._ By those dead Princes From whose descents ye stand a star admir'd at, Lay not so base a lay upon your vertues; Take heed, for honours sake take heed: the bramble No wise man ever planted by the rose, It cankers all her beauty; nor the vine When her full blushes court the sun, dares any Choke up with wanton Ivy: good my Lords, Who builds a monument, the Basis Jasper, And the main body Brick?

_2 Lord._ Ye wrong your worth, Ye are a Gentleman descended nobly.

_1 Lord._ In both bloods truly noble.

_King._ Say ye were not, My will can make ye so.

_Pol._ No, never, never; 'Tis not descent, nor will of Princes does it, 'Tis Vertue which I want, 'tis Temperance, Man, honest man: is't fit your Majesty Should call my drunkenness, my rashness, Brother? Or such a blessed Maid my breach of faith, (For I am most lascivious) and fell angers In which I am also mischievous, her Husband? O Gods preserve her! I am wild as Winter, Ambitious as the Devil: out upon me, I hate my self, Sir, if ye dare bestow her Upon a Subject, ye have one deserves her.

_King._ But him she does not love: I know your meaning. This young mans love unto his noble Brother Appears a mirrour; what must now be done Lords? For I am gravel'd, if she have not him, She dies for certain, if his Brother miss her, Farewel to him, and all our honours.

_1 Lord._ He is dead, Sir, Your Grace has heard of that, and strangely.

_King._ No, I can assure you no, there was a trick in't, Read that, and then know all; what ails the Gentleman? Hold him; how do ye Sir? [Polydor _is sick o'th' sudden_.

_Pol._ Sick o'th' sudden, Extreamly ill, wondrous ill.

_King._ Where did it take ye?

_Pol._ Here in my head, Sir, and my heart, for Heaven sake.

_King._ Conduct him to his Chamber presently, And bid my Doctors--

_Pol._ No, I shall be well, Sir, I do beseech your Grace, even for the Gods sake Remember my poor Brother, I shall pray then.

_King._ Away, he grows more weak still: I will do it, Or Heaven forget me ever. Now your Counsels, [_Ex._ Pol. For I am at my wits end; what with you Sir?

_Enter_ Messenger _with a Letter_.

_Mess._ Letters from warlike _Pelius_.

_King._ Yet more troubles? The _Spartans_ are in Arms, and like to win all: Supplies are sent for, and the General; This is more cross than t'other; come let's to him, For he must have her, 'tis necessity, Or we must lose our honours, let's plead all, For more than all is needful, shew all reason If love can hear o' that side, if she yield We have fought best, and won the noblest field. [_Exeunt._

_Enter_ Eumenes, _Captains_, Stremon.

_1 Cap._ I have brought the wench, a lusty wench, And somewhat like the Princess.

_Eumen._ 'Tis the better, let's see her, And go you in and tell him, that her Grace Is come to visit him: how sleeps he _Stremon_?

_Stre._ He cannot, only thinks, and calls on _Polydor_, Swears he will not be fool'd; sometimes he rages, And sometimes sits and muses. [_Exit_ Stremon.

_Enter_ Whore, _and_ Captain.

_Eume._ He's past all help sure? How do ye like her?

_2 Capt._ By th' mass a good round Virgin, And at first sight resembling, she is well cloath'd too.

_Eume._ But is she sound?

_2 Cap._ Of wind and limb, I warrant her.

_Eume._ You are instructed Lady?

_Who._ Yes, and know, Sir, How to behave my self, ne're fear.

_Eume._ _Polybius_, Where did he get this Vermin?

_1 Capt._ Hang him Badger, There's not a hole free from him, whores and whores mates Do all pay him obedience.

_Eume._ Indeed i'th' War, His quarter was all Whore, Whore upon Whore, And lin'd with Whore; beshrew me 'tis a fair Whore.

_1 Capt._ She has smockt away her blood; but fair or foul, Or blind or lame, that can but lift her leg up, Comes not amiss to him, he rides like a night Mare, All Ages, all Religions.

_Eume._ Can ye state it?

_Who._ I'le make a shift.

_Eume._ He must lie with ye, Lady.

_Who._ Let him, [h]e's not the first man I have lain with, Nor shall not be the last.

_Enter_ Memnon.

_2 Capt._ He comes, no more words, She has her lesson throughly; how he views her!

_Eumen._ Go forward now, so, bravely, stand!

_Mem._ Great Lady, How humbly I am bound--

_Who._ You shall not kneel, Sir, Come, I have done you wrong; stand my Souldier, And thus I make amends-- [_Kisses him._

_Eumen._ A Plague confound ye, Is this your state?

_2 Capt._ 'Tis well enough.

_Mem._ O Lady, Your Royal hand, your hand my dearest beauty Is more than I must purchase: here divine one, I dare revenge my wrongs: ha?

_1 Capt._ A damn'd foul one.

_Eume._ The Lees of Baudy prewns: mourning Gloves? All spoil'd by Heaven.

_Mem._ Ha! who art thou?

_2 Capt._ A shame on ye, Ye clawing scabby Whore.

_Mem._ I say, who art thou?

_Eumen._ Why 'tis the Princess, Sir.

_Mem._ The Devil, Sir, 'Tis some Roguey thing.

_Who._ If this abuse be love, Sir, Or I that laid aside my modesty--

_Eumen._ So far thou't never find it.

_Mem._ Do not weep, For if ye be the Princess, I will love ye, Indeed I will, and honour ye, fight for ye, Come, wipe your eyes; by Heaven she stinks; who art thou? Stinks like a poyson'd Rat behind a hanging? Woman, who art? like a rotten Cabbage.

_2 Capt._ Y'are much to blame, Sir, 'tis the Princess.

_Mem._ How? She the Princess?

_Eumen._ And the loving Princess.

_1 Capt._ Indeed the doating Princess.

_Mem._ Come hither once more, The Princess smells like mornings breath, pure Amber, Beyond the courted _Indies_ in her spices. Still a dead Rat by Heaven; thou a Princess?

_Eumen._ What a dull Whore is this!

_Mem._ I'le tell ye presently, For if she be a Princess, as she may be And yet stink too, and strongly, I shall find her; Fetch the _Numidian_ Lyon I brought over, If she be sprung from the Royal blood, the Lyon, He'l do you reverence, else--

_Who._ I beseech your Lordship--

_Eumen._ He'l tear her all to pieces.

_Who._ I am no Princess, Sir.

_Mem._ Who brought thee hither?

_2 Capt._ If ye confess, we'll hang ye.

_Who._ Good my Lord--

_Mem._ Who art thou then?

_Who._ A poor retaining Whore, Sir, To one of your Lordships Captains.

_Mem._ Alas poor Whore, Go, be a Whore still, and stink worse: _Ha, ha, ha_. [_Ex._ Cloe. What fools are these, and Coxcombs! [_Exit_ Memnon.

_Eumen._ I am right glad yet, He takes it with such lightness.

_1 Cap._ Me thinks his face too Is not so clouded as it was; how he looks!

_Eume._ Where's your dead Rat?

_2 Cap._ The Devil dine upon her Loins; why what a Medicine had he gotten To try a Whore!

_Enter_ Stremon.

_Stre._ Here's one from _Polydor_ stays to speak with ye.

_Eume._ With whom?

_Stre._ With all; where has the General been? He's laughing to himself extreamly.

_Eumen._ Come, I'le tell thee how; I am glad yet he's so merry. [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quintus. Scena Prima._

_Enter_ Chilax _and Priestess_, Calis, _Lady and Nun_.

_Chi._ What lights are those that enter there, still nearer? Plague o' your rotten itch, do you draw me hither Into the Temple to betray me? was there no place To satisfie your sin in? Gods forgive me, Still they come forward.

_Priest._ Peace ye fool, I have found it, 'Tis the young Princess _Calis_.

_Chi._ 'Tis the Devil, To claw us for our catterwawling.

_Priest._ Retire softly, I did not look for you these two hours, Lady, Beshrew your hast: that way. [_To_ Chilax.

_Chi._ That goes to the Altar! Ye old blind Beast.

_Priest._ I know not, any way; Still they come nearer, I'le in to th' Oracle.

_Chi._ That's well remembred I'le in with ye.

_Priest._ Do. [_Exeunt Priest, and_ Chilax.

_Enter_ Calis _and her Train with lights, singing:_ Lucippe, Cleanthe.

SONG.

_O fair sweet Goddess Queen of Loves,_ _Soft and gentle, as thy Doves,_ _Humble ey'd, and ever ruing_ _Those poor hearts, their Loves pursuing:_ _O thou Mother of delights,_ _Crowner of all happy nights,_ _Star of dear content, and pleasure,_ _Of mutual loves the endless treasure,_ _Accept this sacrifice we bring,_ _Thou continual youth and Spring,_ _Grant this Lady her desires,_ _And every hour we'll crown thy fires._

Enter a Nun.

Nun. _You about her all retire,_ _Whilest the Princess feeds the fire,_ _When your Devotions ended be_ _To the Oracle I will attend ye._

[_Exit_ Nun and draws the Curtain close to _Calis_.

_Enter_ Stremon _and_ Eumenes.

_Strem._ He will abroad.

_Eumen._ How does his humour hold him?

_Stre._ He is now grown wondrous sad, weeps often too, Talks of his Brother to himself, starts strangely.

_Eumen._ Does he not curse?

_Strem._ No.

_Eumen._ Nor break out in fury, Offering some new attempt?

_Strem._ Neither; to th' Temple Is all we hear of now: what there he will do--

_Eumen._ I hope repent his folly, let's be near him.

_Strem._ Where are the rest?

_Eumen._ About a business Concerns him mainly, if Heav'n cure his madness, He's made for ever, _Stremon_.

_Strem._ Does the King know it?

_Eumen._ Yes, and much troubled with it, he's now gone To seek his Sister out.

_Strem._ Come let's away then. [_Exeunt_ Eumen. Strem. Cal.

_Enter Nun, she opens the Curtain to_ Calis. Calis _at the Oracle._

_Nun._ Peace to your Prayers Lady, will it please ye To pass on to the Oracle?

_Cal._ Most humbly. [Chilax _and Priest, in the Oracle_.

_Chi._ Do ye hear that?

_Priest._ Yes, lie close.

_Chi._ A wildfire take ye, What shall become of me? I shall be hang'd now: Is this a time to shake? a halter shake ye, Come up and juggle, come.

_Priest._ I am monstrous fearful.

_Chi._ Up ye old gaping Oyster, up and answer; A mouldy Mange upon your chops, ye told me I was safe here till the Bell rung.

_Priest._ I was prevented, And did not look these three hours for the Princess.

_Chi._ Shall we be taken?

_Priest._ Speak for loves sake, _Chilax_; I cannot, nor I dare not.

_Chi._ I'le speak Treason, for I had as lieve be hang'd for that.

_Priest._ Good _Chilax_.

_Chi._ Must it be sung or said? what shall I tell 'em? They are here; here now preparing.

_Priest._ O my Conscience!

_Chi._ Plague o' your spurgall'd Conscience, does it tire now? Now when it should be tuffest? I could make thee--

_Priest._ Save us, we are both undone else.

_Chi._ Down ye Dog then, Be quiet, and be stanch to no inundations.

_Nun._ Here kneel again, and _Venus_ grant your wishes.

Calis. _O Divine Star of Heaven,_ _Thou in power above the seven:_ _Thou sweet kindler of desires,_ _Till they grow to mutual fires:_ _Thou, O gentle Queen, that art_ _Curer of each wounded heart:_ _Thou the fuel, and the flame;_ _Thou in Heaven, and here the same:_ _Thou the wooer, and the woo'd:_ _Thou the hunger, and the food:_ _Thou the prayer, and the pray'd;_ _Thou what is, or shall be said:_ _Thou still young, and golden tressed,_ _Make me by thy Answer blessed._

_Chi._ When?

_Priest._ Now speak handsomly, and small by all means, I have told ye what. [_Thunder._

_Chi._ But I'le tell you a new tale, Now for my Neck-verse; I have heard thy prayers, And mark me well.

_Musick._ Venus _descends_.

_Nun._ The Goddess is displeased much, The temple shakes and totters; she appears, Bow, Lady, bow.

Venus. _Purge me the Temple round,_ _And live by this example henceforth sound._ _Virgin, I have seen thy tears,_ _Heard thy wishes, and thy fears;_ _Thy holy Incense flew above,_ _Hark therefore to thy doom in Love;_ _Had thy heart been soft at first,_ _Now thou had'st allay'd thy thirst,_ _Had thy stubborn will but bended,_ _All thy sorrows here had ended;_ _Therefore to be just in Love,_ _A strange Fortune thou must prove,_ _And, for thou hast been stern and coy,_ _A dead Love thou shalt enjoy._

_Cal._ O gentle goddess!

_Ven._ Rise, thy doom is said, And fear not, I will please thee with the dead. [Venus _ascends_.

_Nun._ Go up into the Temple and there end Your holy Rites, the Goddess smiles upon ye. [_Exeunt_ Cal. _and_ Nun.

_Enter_ Chilax _in his Robe_.