CUPID'S REVENGE

By Francis Beaumont

and John Fletcher

c. 1611-12

The Persons represented in the Play:

Cupid.

The Priest of Cupid.

Nilo, sent in Commission to pull down Cupid's Images.

Leontius, the old Duke of Lycia.

Leucippus, Son to the duke.

Zoilus, Leucippus' Dwarf.

Hidaspes, Daughter to the duke.

Cleophila, an Attendant of Hidaspes.

Hero, an Attendant of Hidaspes.

Ismenus, Nephew to the duke.

Lycian Nobles:

Telamon, a Lycian Lord.

Dorialus, a Courtier.

Agenor, a Courtier.

Nisus, a Courtier.

Timantus, a villainous Sycophant.

Bacha, a Strumpet.

Urania, her Daughter.

Bacha's Maid.

Urania's Maid.

Servants and Attendants.

Four young Men and Maids.

Four Citizens.

The Scene: Lycia

ACT I.

SCENE I.

An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Dorialus, Agenor, and Nisus.

Agen. Trust me, my lord Dorialus, I had missed of this,

if you had not called me; I thought the princess’s

birthday had been to-morrow.

Nisus. Why, did your lordship sleep out the day?

Dor. I marvel what the duke meant, to make such an

idle vow.

Nisus. Idle! why?

Dor. Is't not idle, to swear to grant his daughter

anything she shall ask on her birthday? she may ask an

impossible thing; and I pray Heaven she do not ask an

unfit thing, at one time or other: 'tis dangerous trusting

a man’s vow upon the discretion on’s daughter.

Agen. I wonder most at the marquis her brother, who is

always vehemently forward to have her desires granted.

Dor. He's acquainted with 'em before.

Agen. She's doubtless very chaste and virtuous.

Dor. So is Leucippus her brother.

Nisus. She's twenty years old; I wonder she ask not a

husband.

Dor. That were a folly in her, having refused all the

great princes in one part of the world; she'll die a maid.

Agen. She may ask but once, may she?

Nisus. A hundred times this day, if she will: and,

indeed, every day is such a day; for though the duke has

vowed it only on this day, he keeps it every day; he can

deny her nothing.

[Cornets within.]

Enter Leontius, Hidaspes, Leucippus, Ismenus,

Timantus, and Telamon.

Leon. Come, fair Hidaspes; thou art duchess today;

Art thou prepared to ask? thou know’st my oath

Will force performance: − and, Leucippus, if

She now ask aught that shall or would have performance

After my death, when by the help of Heaven

This land is thine, accursèd be thy race,

May everyone forget thou art my son,

And so their own obedience −

Leuc. Mighty sir,

I do not wish to know that fatal hour,

That is to make me king; but if I do,

I shall most hastily, and like a son,

Perform your grants to all, chiefly to her. −

[Aside to Hidaspes.]

Remember that you ask what we agreed upon.

Leon. Are you prepared? then speak.

Hidas. Most royal sir, I am prepared;

Nor shall my will exceed a virgin’s bounds;

What I request shall both at once bring me

[And you] a full content.

Leon. So it ever does:

Thou only comfort of my feeble age,

Make known thy good desire, for I dare swear

Thou lovest me.

Hidas. [Kneeling.] This is it I beg,

And on my knees: the people of your land,

The Lycians, are, through all the natións

That know their name, noted to have in use

A vain and fruitless superstitión;

So much more hateful, that it bears the show

Of true religion, and is nothing else

But a self-pleasing bold lasciviousness.

Leon. What is it?

Hidas. Many ages before this,

When every man got to himself a trade,

And was laborious in that chosen course,

Hating an idle life far worse than death,

Some one that gave himself to wine and sloth,

Which breed lascivious thoughts, and found himself

Contemned for that by every painful man,

To take his stain away, framed to himself

A god, whom he pretended to obey,

In being thus dishonest; for a name

He called him Cupid. This created god,

(Man's nature being ever credulous

Of any vice that takes part with his blood)

Had ready followers enow: and since

In every age they grew, especially

Amongst your subjects, who do yet remain

Adorers of that drowsy deity,

Which drink invented; and the wingèd boy

(For so they call him) has his sacrifices,

And these loose naked statues through the land,

In every village; nay, the palace

Is not free from 'em. This is my request,

That these erected obscene images

May be plucked down and burnt: and every man

That offers to 'em any sacrifice,

May lose his life.

Leon. [Raising her.] But be advised,

My fairest daughter: if he be a god,

He will express it upon thee, my child;

Which Heaven avert!

Leuc. There is no such power;

But the opinion of him fills the land

With lustful sins: every young man and maid,

That feel the least desire to one another,

Dare not suppress it, for they think it is

Blind Cupid's motion: and he is a god!

Leon. This makes our youth unchaste. − I am resolved:

Nephew Ismenus, break the statues down

Here in the palace, and command the city

Do the like: let proclamatións

Be drawn, and hastily sent through the land,

To the same purpose.

Ism. Sir, I’ll break down none

Myself, but I’ll deliver your command:

Hand I will have none in't, for I like it not.

[Exit Ismenus.]

Leon. Go and command it. − Pleasure of my life,

Wouldst thou aught else? make many thousand suits;

They must and shall be granted.

Hidas. Nothing else.

Leon. But go and meditate on other suits;

Some six days hence I'll give thee audience again,

And, by a new oath, bind myself to keep it:

Ask largely for thyself: dearer than life,

In whom I may be bold to call myself

More fortunate than any in my age,

I will deny thee nothing.

Leuc. 'Twas well done, sister.

[Exeunt all but Dorialus, Agenor and Nisus.]

Nisus. How like you this request, my lords?

Dor. I know not yet, I am so full of wonder!

We shall be gods ourselves shortly,

An we pull 'em out of Heaven o' this fashion.

Agen. We shall have wenches now when we can catch ’em

An we transgress thus.

Nisus. An we abuse the gods once, 'tis a justice

We should be held at hard meat. For my part,

I'll e'en make ready for mine own affection;

I know the god incensed must send a hardness

Through all good women’s hearts, and then we have
brought

Our eggs and muscadine to a fair market:

Would I had gi'n an hundred [pound] for a toleration,

That I might but use my conscience in mine own house!

Dor. The duke, he's old and past it; he would never

Have brought such a plague upon the land else;

'Tis worse than sword and famine. Yet, to say truth,

We have deserved it, we have lived so wickedly,

Every man at his livery; and would that

Would have sufficed us!

We murmured at this blessing, that ‘twas nothing,

And cried out to the god for endless pleasures:

He heard us, and supplied us, and our women

Were new still, as we needed 'em: yet we,

Like beasts, still cried, “Poor men can number their whores,

Give us abundance!” we had it, and this curse withal.

Agen. By’r lady, we are like to have a long Lent on't;

Flesh will be flesh now! Gentlemen, I had rather

Have angered all the gods than that blind gunner.

I remember, once the people did but slight him

In a sacrifice; and what followed? women kept

Their houses, grew good huswives, honest forsooth!

Was not that fine?

Wore their own faces, though they wore gay clothes,

Without surveying; and, which was most lamentable,

They loved their husbands.

Nisus. I do remember it to my grief:

Young maids were as cold as cucumbers, and much

Of that complexion; bawds were abolished:

And, (to which misery it must come again)

There were no cuckolds.

Well, we had need to pray to keep these devils from us;

The times grow mischievous! − There he goes! Lord!

An Attendant, carrying an image of Cupid,

passes over the stage.

This is a sacrilege I have not heard of:

Would I were gelt, that I might not feel what follows!

Agen. And I too. You shall see within these few years,

A fine confusion i' the country: mark it;

Nay, an we grow for to depose the powers,

And set up Chastity again − well, I have done! −

A fine new goddess certainly, whose blessings

Are hunger and hard beds!

Nisus. This comes of fullness, a sin too frequent with us;

I believe now we shall find shorter commons.

Dor. Would I were married! somewhat has some savour;

The race of gentry will quite run out, now

'Tis only left to husbands: if younger sisters

Take not the greater charity, 'tis lawful.

Agen. Well, let come what will come, I am but one,

And as the plague falls, I will shape myself:

If women will be honest, I'll be sound.

If the god be not too unmerciful,

I'll take a little still, where I can get it,

And thank him, and say nothing.

Nisus. This ill wind yet may blow the city good,

And let them (if they can) get their own children;

They have hung long enough in doubt: but, howsoever,

The old way was the surer; then they had 'em.

Dor. Farewell, my lords, I'll e'en take up what rent

I can before the day; I fear the year

Will fall out ill.

Agen. We'll with you, sir. − And, Love, so favour us,

As we are still thy servants. − Come, my lords;

Let's to the duke, and tell him to what folly

His doting now has brought him.

[Exeunt.]

ACT I, SCENE II.

A Temple of Cupid.

Enter Priest of Cupid,

with four young men and maidens, and a Boy.

Priest. Come, my children, let your feet

In an even measure meet,

And your cheerful voices rise,

For to present this sacrifice

To great Cupid, in whose name,

I, his Priest, begin the same.

Young men, take your loves and kiss;

Thus our Cupid honoured is.

Kiss again, and in your kissing,

Let no promises be missing!

Nor let any maiden here

Dare to turn away her ear

Unto the whisper of her love;

But give bracelet, ring, or glove,

As a token to her sweeting

Of an after secret meeting.

Now, boy, sing, to stick our hearts

Fuller of great Cupid's darts!

The Boy sings the following:

Song:

Lovers, rejoice! your pains shall be rewarded,

The god of love himself grieves at your crying:

No more shall frozen honour be regarded,

Nor the coy faces of a maid denying.

No more shall virgins sigh, and say “We dare not,

For men are false, and what they do they care not:”

All shall be well again; then do not grieve;

Men shall be true, and women shall believe.

Lovers, rejoice! what you shall say henceforth,

When you have caught your sweethearts in your arms,

It shall be accounted oracle, and worth:

No more faint-hearted girls shall dream of harms,

And cry “They are too young”, the god hath said,

Fifteen shall make a mother of a maid:

Then, wise men, pull your roses yet unblown;

Love hates the too ripe fruit that falls alone.

[A measure.]

After the measure, enter Nilo, Gentlemen

and Attendants.

Nilo. No more of this: here break your rites forever;

The duke commands it so. Priest, do not stare;

I must deface your temple, though unwilling,

And your god Cupid here must make a scarecrow,

For anything I know, or, at the best,

Adorn a chimney-piece.

Priest. Oh, sacrilege unheard-of!

Nilo. This will not help it. −

Take down the images, and away with 'em! –

[Attendants take down,

and carry out the images of Cupid.]

Priest, change your coat, you had best; all service now

Is given to men; prayers above their hearing

Will prove but babblings; learn to lie and thrive,

'Twill prove your best profession. For the gods,

He that lives by 'em now must be a beggar:

There's better holiness on earth, they say;

Pray God it ask not greater sacrifice!

Go home;

And if your god be not deaf as well as blind,

He will make some smoke for it.

[Exeunt Priest, young men and maidens, and Boy.]

1st Gent. Sir −

Nilo. Gentlemen,

There is no talking; this must be done and speedily;

I have commission that I must not break.

2nd Gent. We are gone, to wonder what shall follow.

Nilo. On to the next temple!

[Exeunt.]

[Cornets within. Cupid descends.]

Cupid. Am I then scorned? is my all-doing will

And power, that knows no limit, nor admits none,

Now looked into by less than gods, and weakened?

Am I, whose bow struck terror through the earth

No less than thunder, and in this exceeding

Even gods themselves, who knee before my altars,

***

Now shook off and contemned by such whose lives

Are but my recreation? Anger, rise!

My sufferance and myself are made the subject

Of sins against us: go thou out, displeasure!

Displeasure of a great god, fling thyself

Through all this kingdom; sow whatever evils

Proud flesh is taking of amongst these rebels:

And on the first heart that despised my greatness,

Lay a strange misery, that all may know

Cupid's Revenge is mighty! with this arrow,

Hotter than plagues or mine own anger, will I

Now nobly right myself: nor shall the prayers,

Nor sweet smokes on my altars, hold my hand,

Till I have left this a most wretched land.

[Ascends.]

ACT I, SCENE III.

An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Hidaspes and Cleophila.

Hidas. Cleophila, what was he that went hence?

Cleo. What means your grace now?

Hidas. I mean that handsome man,

That something more than man, I met at door.

Cleo. Here was no handsome man.

Hidas. Come, he's someone

You would preserve in private; but you want

Cunning to do it, and my eyes are sharper

Than yours, and can with one neglecting glance

See all the graces of a man. Who was't?

Cleo. That went hence now?

Hidas. That went hence now; Ay, he.

Cleo. Faith, here was no such one as your grace thinks;

Zoilus, your brother’s dwarf, went out but now.

Hidas. I think 'twas he: how bravely he passed by!

Is he not grown a goodly gentleman?

Cleo. A goodly gentleman, madam! he is

The most deformèd fellow in the land.

Hidas. Oh, blasphemy! he may perhaps to thee

Appear deformèd, for he is indeed

Unlike a man: his shape and colours are

Beyond the art of painting; he is like

Nothing that we have seen, yet doth resemble

Apollo, as I oft have fancied him,

When rising from his bed he stirs himself,

And shakes day from his hair.

Cleo. He resembles Apollo's recorder.

Hidas. Cleophila, go send a page for him,

And thou shalt see thy error, and repent.

[Exit Cleophila.]

Alas, what do I feel? my blood rebels,

And I am one of those I used to scorn:

My maiden-thoughts are fled; against myself

I harbor traitors; my virginity,

That from my childhood kept me company,

Is heavier than I can endure to bear.

Forgive me, Cupid! for thou art a god,

And I a wretched creature: I have sinned;

But be thou merciful, and grant that yet

I may enjoy what thou wilt have me love!

Enter Cleophila and Zoilus.

Cleo. Zoilus is here, Madam.

Hidas. He's there indeed.

Now be thine own judge; see, thou worse than mad,

Is he deformèd? look upon those eyes,

That let all pleasure out into the world,

Unhappy that they cannot see themselves;

Look on his hair, that, like so many beams,

Streaking the east, shoot light o'er half the world!

Look on him altogether, who is made

As if two natures had contentión

About their skill, and one had brought forth him!

Zoil. Ha, ha, ha!

Madam, though nature hath not given me

So much as others in my outward show,

I bear a heart as loyal unto you

In this unsightly body (which you please

To make your mirth), as many others do

That are far more befriended in their births:

Yet I could wish myself much more deformed

Than yet I am, so I might make your grace

More merry than you are, − ha, ha, ha!

Hidas. Beshrew me, then,

If I be merry! but I am content

Whilst thou art with me; thou that art my saint,

By hope of whose mild favour I do live

To tell thee so. I pray thee, scorn me not!

Alas, what can it add unto thy worth

To triumph over me, that am a maid,

Without deceit, whose heart doth guide her tongue,

Drowned in my passions? yet I will take leave

To call it reason, that I dote on thee.

Cleo. [Aside] The princess is besides her grace, I think,

To talk thus with a fellow that will hardly

Serve i' the dark when one is drunk.

Hidas. What answer wilt thou give me?

Zoil. If it please your grace to jest on, I can abide it.

Hidas. If it be jest, not to esteem my life

Compared with thee; if it be jest in me,

To hang a thousand kisses in an hour

Upon those lips, and take 'em off again;

If it be jest for me to marry thee,

And take obedience on me whilst I live;

Then all I say is jest:

For every part of this, I swear by those

That see my thoughts, I am resolved to do!

And I beseech thee, by thine own white hand,

(Which, pardon me, that I am bold to kiss

With so unworthy lips,) that thou wilt swear

To marry me, as I do here to thee,

Before the face of Heaven!

Zoil. Marry you? Ha, ha, ha!

Hidas. Kill me, or grant! Wilt thou not speak at all?

Zoil. Why, I will do your will forever.

Hidas. I ask no more: but let me kiss that mouth

That is so merciful! − that is my will:

Next go with me before the king in haste, −

That is my will, − where I will make our peers

Know that thou art their better.

Zoil. Ha, ha, ha! that is fine! ha, ha, ha!

Cleo. Madam, what means your grace?

Consider, for the love of Heaven, to what

You run madly! will you take this viper

Into your bed?

Hidas. Away! hold off thy hands! −

Strike her, sweet Zoilus; for it is my will,

Which thou hast sworn to do.

Zoil. Away, for shame!

Know you no manners? − Ha, ha, ha!

[Exit with Hidaspes.]

Cleo. Thou know'st none, I fear. −

This is just Cupid's anger: Venus, look

Down mildly on us! and command thy son

To spare this lady once, and let me be

In love with all, and none in love with me!

[Exit.]

ACT I, SCENE IV.

Another Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Ismenus and Timantus.

Tim. Is your lordship for the wars this summer?

Ism. Timantus, wilt thou go with me?

Tim. If I had a company, my lord.

Ism. Of fiddlers? thou a company!

No, no; keep thy company at home, and cause cuckolds;

The wars will hurt thy face: there's no seamsters,

Shoemakers, nor tailors, nor almond-milk i' th' morning,

Nor poached eggs to keep your worship soluble,

No man to warm your shirt, and blow your roses;

Nor none to reverénce your round lace breeches.

If thou wilt needs go, and go thus, get a case

For thy captainship; a shower will spoil thee else.

Thus much for thee.

Tim. Your lordship's wondrous witty;

Very pleasant, believe't.

Enter Leontius, Telamon, Dorialus, Agenor, Nisus, and Attendants.

Leon. No news yet of my son?

Tela. Sir, there be divers out in search; no doubt

They'll bring the truth where he is, or the occasion

That led him hence.

Tim. [Aside] They [must] have good eyes then.

Leon. The gods go with them! − Who be those that wait there?

Tela. The lord Ismenus, your general, for his dispatch.

Leon. Oh, nephew, we have no use to employ your virtue

In our war; now the province is well settled.

Hear you aught of the marquis?

Ism. No sir.

Leon. 'Tis strange he should be gone thus; these five days

He was not seen.

Tim. [Aside] I'll hold my life, I could bolt him in an hour.

Leon. Where's my daughter?

Dor. About the purging of the temples, sir.

Leon. She's chaste and virtuous. Fetch her to me,

And tell her I am pleased to grant her now

Her last request, without repenting me,

[Exit Nisus.]

Be it what it will: − She’s wise, Dorialus,

And will not press me farther than a father.

Dor. I pray the best may follow! Yet, if your grace

Had taken the opinions of your people,

At least of such whose wisdoms ever wake

About your safety, I may say it, sir,

Under your noble pardon, that this change

Either had been more honour to the gods,

Or I think not at all. Sir, the princess.

Enter Hidaspes, Nisus, and Zoilus.

Leon. Oh my daughter,

My health! and did I say my soul, I lied not,

Thou art so near me! speak, and have whatever

Thy wise will leads thee to! Had I a Heaven,

It were too poor a place for such a goodness.

Dor. What's here?

Agen. An ape’s skin stuffed, I think, ‘tis so plump.

Hidas. Sir, you have passed your word; still be a prince,

And hold you to it. Wonder not I press you;

My life lies in your word; if you break that,

You have broke my heart! I must ask that's my shame,

And your will must not deny me; now, for Heaven,

Be not forsworn.

Leon. By the gods, I will not,

I cannot, were there no other power

Than my love called to a witness of it.

Dor. [Aside] They have much reason to trust; you have

Forsworn one of 'em out o' th' country already.

Hidas. Then this is my request: this gentleman −

Be not ashamed, sir: you are worth a kingdom.

Leon. In what?

Hidas. In the way of marriage.

Leon. How?

Hidas. In the way of marriáge; it must be so!

Your oath is tied to Heavèn, as my love

To him.

Leon. I know thou dost but try my age,

Come, ask again!

Hidas. If I should ask all my life-time,

This is all still. Sir, I am serious; I must have

This worthy man, without inquiring why,

And suddenly, and freely: do not look

For reason or obedience in my words;

My love admits no wisdom; only haste,

And hope hangs on my fury. Speak, sir, speak!

But not as a father; I am deaf and dull to counsel:

My inflamed blood hears nothing but my will.

For God’s sake, speak!

Dor. Here's a brave alteration.

Nisus. This comes of chastity.

Hidas. Will not you speak, sir?

Agen. The god begins his vengeance; what a sweet youth

He has sent us here, with a pudding in's belly!

Leon. Oh, let me never speak,

Or with my words let me speak out my life! −

Thou power, abused, great Love, whose vengeance now

We feel and fear, have mercy on this land!

Nisus. How does your grace?

Leon. Sick; very sick, I hope.

Dor. Gods comfort you!

Hidas. Will not you speak? is this your royal word?

Do not pull perjury upon your soul!

Sir, you are old, and near your punishment;

Remember.

Leon. Away, base woman!

Hidas. Then be no more my father, but a plague

I’m bound to pray against! be any sin

May force me to despair, and hang myself!

Be thy name never more remembered, king,

But in example of a broken faith,

And cursed even to forgetfulness! May thy land

Bring forth such monsters as thy daughter is! −

I am weary of my rage. − I pray forgive me,

And let me have him; will you, noble sir?

Leon. Mercy, mercy, Heaven! −

Thou heir of all dishonour, sham’st thou not

To draw this little moisture left for life,

Thus rudely from me? − Carry that slave to death!

Zoil. For Heaven’s sake, sir, it is no fault of mine

That she will love me.

Leon. To death with him, I say!

Hidas. Then make haste, tyrant, or I'll be before him!

This is the way to hell.

Leon. Hold fast, I charge you!

Away with him!

[Exit Zoilus, guarded.]

Hidas. Alas, old man! death hath more doors than one,

And I will meet him!

[Exit Hidaspes.]

Leon. Dorialus, pray see her in her chamber,

And lay a guard about her.

[Exit Dorialus.]

The greatest curse the gods lay on our frailties

Is will and disobedience in our issues,

Which we beget, as well as them, to plague us,

With our fond loves. Beasts, you are only blest,

That have that happy dulness to forget

What you have made! your young ones grieve not you;

They wander where they list, and have their ways

Without dishonor to you; and their ends

Fall on 'em without sorrow of their parents,

Or after ill remembrance. Oh, this woman!

Would I had made myself a sepulcher,

When I made her! − Nephew, where is the prince? −

Pray God he have not more part of her baseness

Than of her blood about him! − Gentlemen,

Where is he?

Ism. I know not, sir: h’as his ways by himself,

Is too wise for my company.

Leon. I do not like this hiding of himself

From such society as [fits] his person:

Some of ye needs must know.

Ism. I am sure not I,

Nor have known twice these ten days; which, if I were

As proud as some of 'em, I should take scurvily:

But he is a young man, let him have his swinge;

'Twill make him −

[Timantus whispers to the Duke.]

[Aside] There's some good matter now in hand:

How the slave jeers and grins! the duke is pleased;

There's a new pair of scarlet hose now, and as much

Money to spare as will fetch the old from pawn,

A hat and a cloak to go out tomorrow;

Garters and stockings come by nature.

Leon. Be sure of this!

Tim. I durst not speak else, sir.

[Exeunt.]

ACT II.

SCENE I.

The Temple of Cupid.

Cornets within. Cupid descends.

Cupid. Leucippus, thou art shot through with a shaft

That will not rankle long, yet sharp enough

To sow a world of helpless misery

In this unhappy kingdom! Dost thou think,

Because thou art a prince, to make a part

Against my power? But it is all the fault

Of thy old father, who believes his age

Is cold enough to quench my burning darts;

But he shall know ere long, that my smart loose

Can thaw ice, and inflame the withered heart

Of Nestor: thou thyself art lightly struck;

But his mad love shall publish that the rage

Of Cupid has the power to conquer age.

[Ascends.]

ACT II, SCENE II.

The House of Bacha.

Enter Leucippus and Bacha,

Bacha with a handkerchief.

Leuc. Why, what's the matter?

Bacha. Have you got the spoil

You thirsted for? Oh tyranny of men!

Leuc. I pray thee, leave.

Bacha. Your envy is, Heaven knows,

Beyond the reach of all our feeble sex:

What pain, alas, could it have been to you,

If I had kept mine honor? you might still

Have been a prince, and still this country’s heir:

That innocent guard which I till now had kept

For my defense, my virtue, did it seem

So dangerous in a state, that you yourself

Came to suppress it?

Leuc. Dry thine eyes again;

I'll kiss thy tears away; this is but folly;

'Tis past all help.

Bacha. Now you have won the treasure,

'Tis my request that you would leave me thus,

And never see these empty walls again:

I know you will do so; and well you may,

For there is nothing in ‘em that is worth

A glance. I loathe myself, and am become

Another woman; one, methinks, with whom

I want acquaintance.

Leuc. If I do offend thee,

I can be gone; and though I love thy sight,

So highly do I prize thine own content,

That I will leave thee.

Bacha. Nay, you may stay now;

You should have gone before: I know not now

Why I should fear you: all I should have kept

Is stol'n: nor is it in the power of man

To rob me farther; if you can invent,

Spare not: no naked man fears robbing less

Than I do: now you may forever stay.

Leuc. Why, I could do thee further wrong.

Bacha. You have a deeper reach in evil than I;

'Tis past my thought.

Leuc. And past my will to act;

But trust me, I could do it.

Bacha. Good sir, do;

That I may know there is a wrong beyond

What you have done me.

Leuc. I could tell the world

What thou hast done.

Bacha. Yes, you may tell the world;

And do you think I am so vain to hope

You will not? you can tell the world but this,

That I am a widow, full of tears in show,

(My husband dead, and one that loved me so,

Hardly a week) forgot my modesty,

And, caught with youth and greatness, gave myself

To live in sin with you: this you may tell;

And this I do deserve.

Leuc. Why, dost thou think me

So base to tell? These limbs of mine shall part

From one another on a rack,

Ere I disclose. But thou dost utter words

That much afflict me; you did seem as ready,

Sweet Bacha, as myself.

Bacha. You are right a man;

When they have witched us into misery,

Poor innocent souls, they lay the fault on us.

But be it so! for prince Leucippus’ sake,

I will bear anything.

Leuc. Come, weep no more;

I wrought thee to it; it was my fault:

Nay, see if thou wilt leave! Here, take this pearl: −

Kiss me, sweet Bacha, − and receive this purse.

[Gives pearl and purse.]

Bacha. What should I do with these? they will not deck

My mind.

Leuc. Why, keep 'em to remember me.

I must be gone; I have been absent long:

I know the duke my father is in rage:

But I will see thee suddenly again.

Farewell, my Bacha!

Bacha. Gods keep you! − Do you hear, sir?

Pray, give me a point to wear.

Leuc. Alas, good Bacha!

Take one, I pray thee, where thou wilt.

Bacha. [Taking a point from his dress.] Coming

From you, this point is of as high esteem

With me, as all pearl and gold. Nothing but good

Be ever with or near you!

Leuc. Fare thee well,

Mine own good Bacha! I will make all haste.

[Exit.]

Bacha. Just as you are a dozen I esteem you;

No more: does he think I would prostitute

Myself for love? it was the love of these

Pearls and gold that won me. I confess

I lust more after him than any other,

And would at any rate, if I had store,

Purchase his fellowship; but being poor,

I'll both enjoy his body and his purse,

And, he a prince, ne’er think myself the worse.

Enter Leontius,

with Leucippus, Ismenus, and Timantus.

Leon. Nay, you must back and show us what it is

That witches you out of your honour thus.

Bacha. Who's that?

Tim. Look there, sir!

Leon. Lady, never fly;

You are betrayed.

Bacha. Leave me, my tears, a while,

And to my just rage give a little place! −

What saucy man are you, that without leave

Enter upon a widow’s mournful house?

You hinder a dead man from many tears,

Who did deserve more than the world can shed,

Though they should weep themselves to images.

If not for love of me, yet of yourself,

Away! for you can bring no comfort to me.

But you may carry hence you know not what:

Nay, sorrow is infectious.

Leon. Thou thyself

Art grown infectious! Wouldst thou know my name?

I am the duke, father to this young man

Whom thou corrupt'st.

Bacha. [Aside] Has he, then, told him all?

Leuc. You do her wrong, sir.

Bacha. [Aside] O he has not told. –

Sir, I beseech you pardon my wild tongue,

Directed by a weak distempered head,

Madded with grief! Alas, I did not know

You were my sovereign! but now you may

Command my poor unworthy life, which will

Be none, I hope, ere long.

Leon. All thy dissembling

Will never hide thy shame: and were't not more

Respecting womanhood in general

Than anything in thee, thou shouldst be made

Such an example, that posterity,

When they would speak most bitterly, should say,

“Thou art as impudent as Bacha was.”

Bacha. Sir, though you be my king, whom I will serve

In all just causes, yet when wrongfully

You seek to take my honour, I will rise

[Rises.]

Thus, and defy you; for it is a jewel

Dearer than you can give, which whilst I keep,

(Though in this lowly house) I shall esteem

Myself above the princes of the earth

That are without it. If the prince your son,

Whom you accuse me with, know how to speak

Dishonour of me, if he do not do it,

The plagues of hell light on him! may he never

Govern this kingdom! Here I challenge him,

Before the face of Heaven, my liege, and these,

To speak the worst he can: if he will lie,

To lose a woman’s fame, I'll say he is

Like you − I think I cannot call him worse.

He's dead, that with his life would have defended

My reputation, and I forced to play

(That which I am [indeed]) the foolish woman,

And use my liberal tongue.

Leuc. [Aside] Is't possible?

We men are children in our carriages,

Compared with women. Wake thyself, for shame,

And leave not her (whose honor thou shoudst keep

Safe as thine own) alone to free herself!

But I am pressed, I know not how, with guilt,

And feel my conscience (never used to lie)

Loathe to allow my tongue to add a lie

To that too much I did: but it is lawful

To defend her, that only for my love

Loved evil.

Leon. Tell me, why did you, Leucippus,

Stay here so long?

Leuc. [Aside] If I can urge aught from me but a truth,

Hell take me!

Leon. What's the matter? why speak you not?

Tim. Alas, good sir, forbear to urge the prince!

You see his shamefacedness.

Bacha. What does he say, sir? − if thou be a prince,

Show it, and tell the truth!

Ism. If you have lain with her, tell your father;

No doubt but he has done as ill before now:

The gentlewoman will be proud on't.

Bacha. For God's sake, speak!

Leuc. Have you done prating yet?

Ism. Who prates?

Leuc. Thou know'st I do not speak to thee, Ismenus: −

But what said you, Timantus, concerning my shamefacedness?

Tim. Nothing, I hope, that might displease your highness.

Leuc. If any of thy great-great-grandmothers,

This thousand years, had been as chaste as she,

It would have made thee honester: I stayed

To hear what you would say. She is, by Heaven,

Of the most strict and blameless chastity

That ever woman was: −

[Aside] good gods, forgive me! −

Had Tarquin met with her, she had been killed

With a slave by her ere she had agreed.

I lie with her! would I might perish then!

Our mothers, whom we all must reverence,

Could ne’er exceed her for her chastity,

Upon my soul! for, by this light, she is

A most obstinate modest creature!

Leon. What did you with her, then, so long, Leucippus?

Leuc. I'll tell you, sir: you see she's beautiful.

Leon. I see it well.

Leuc. Moved by her face, I came

With lustful thoughts, (which was a fault in me,

But, telling truth, something more pardonable,

And for the world I will not lie to you)

Proud of myself, I thought a prince’s name

Had power to blow 'em down flat of their backs,

But here I found a rock not to be shook;

For, as I hope for good, sir, all the battery

That I could lay to her, or of my person,

My greatness, or gold, could nothing move her.

Leon. 'Tis very strange, being so young and fair.

Leuc. She's almost thirty, sir.

Leon. How do you know

Her age so just?

Leuc. She told it me herself,

Once when she went about to show by reason

I should leave wooing her.

Leon. She stains the ripest virgins of her age.

Leuc. If I had sinned with her, I would be loathe

To publish her disgrace: but, by my life,

I would have told it you, because I think

You would have pardoned me the rather, sir:

And I will tell you farther: by this light,

(But that I never will bestow myself

But to your liking) if she now would have me,

I now would marry her.

Leon. How's that, Leucippus?

Leuc. Sir, will you pardon me one fault, which yet

I have not done, but had a will to do,

And I will tell it?

Leon. Be it what it will,

I pardon thee.

Leuc. I offered marriage to her.

Leon. Did she refuse it?

Leuc. With that earnestness,

And almost scorn to think of any other

After her lost mate, that she made me think

Myself unworthy of her.

Leon. You have stayed

Too long, Leucippus.

Leuc. Yes, sir. –

[Aside] Forgive me, Heaven!

What multitude of oaths have I bestowed

On lies! and yet they were officious lies,

There was no malice in 'em.

Leon. [Aside] She is the fairest

Creature that ever I beheld; and then

So chaste, 'tis wonderful: the more I look on her,

The more I am amazèd. I have long

Thought of a wife, and one I would have had,

But that I was afraid to meet a woman

That might abuse my age: but here she is

Whom I may trust to: of a chastity

Impregnable, and approved so by my son;

The meanness of her birth will still preserve her

In due obedience; and her beauty is

Of force enough to pull me back to youth.

My son once sent away, whose rivalship

I have just cause to fear, if power, or gold,

Or wit, can win her to me, she is mine. −

Nephew Ismenus, I have new intelligence,

Your province is unquiet still.

Ism. I’m glad on't.

Leon. And so dangerously, that I must send

The prince in person with you.

Ism. I’m glad of that too:

Sir, will you dispatch us? We shall wither here

Forever.

Leon. You shall be dispatched within

This hour. − Leucippus, never wonder, nor ask;

It must be thus. – Lady, I ask your pardon,

Whose virtue I have slubbered with my tongue;

And you shall ever be

Chaste in my memory hereafter; but

We old men often dote. To make amends

For my great fault, receive that ring:

[Gives ring.]

I'm sorry for your grief; may it soon leave you! –

Come, my lords; let’s be gone.

Bacha. Heaven bless your grace! –

[Exeunt all but Bacha.]

One that had but so much modesty left as to blush,

Or shrink a little at his first encounter,

Had been undone! where I come off with honour,

And gain too: they that never would be tracked

In any course by the most subtle sense,

Must bear it through with frontless impudence.

[Exit.]

ACT II, SCENE III.

Before the Palace.

Enter Dorialus, Agenor, and Nisus.

Dor. Gentlemen, this is a strange piece of justice, to put

the wretched dwarf to death because she doted on him:

is she not a woman, and subject to those mad figaries

her whole sex is infected with? Had she loved you, or

you, or I, or all on's (as indeed the more the merrier still

with them) must we therefore have our heads pared

with a hatchet? So she may love all the nobility out o'

the dukedom in a month, and let the rascals in.

Nisus. You will not, or you do not, see the need

That makes this just to the world.

Dor. I cannot tell; I would be loathe to feel it:

But, the best is, she loves not proper men;

We three were in wise cases else. But make me know

This need.

Nisus. Why yes: he being ta’en away,

This base incontinence dies presently,

And she must see her shame, and sorrow for it.

Dor. Pray God she do! but was the sprat beheaded? or

did they swing him about like a chicken, and so break

his neck?

Agen. Yes, he was beheaded, and a solemn justice made

of it.

Dor. That might have been deducted.

Agen. Why, how would you have had him die?

Dor. Faith, I would have had him roasted like a warden,

in a brown paper, and no more talk on't: or a feather

stuck in's head like a quail: or hanged him in a dog-

collar. What, should he be beheaded? we shall have it

grow so base shortly, gentlemen will be out of love

with it.

Nisus. I wonder from whence this race of the dwarf's

first sprung?

Dor. From an old lecherous pair of breeches, that lay

upon a wench to keep her warm; for certainly they are

no man's work: and I am sure a monkey would get one

of the guard to this fellow; he was no bigger than a

small portmanteau, and much about that making, if 't

had legs.

Agen. But, gentlemen, what say you to the prince?

Nisus. Ay, concerning his being sent I know not

whither.

Dor. Why, then, he will come home I know not when.

You shall pardon me; I'll talk no more of this subject,

but say, gods be with him, where’er he is, and send him

well home again! for why he is gone, or when he will

return, let them know that directed him: only this,

there's mad moriscoes in the state; but what they are,

I'll tell you when I know.

Come, let's go, hear all, and say nothing!

Agen. Content.

[Exeunt.]

ACT II, SCENE IV.

Ante-chamber in the Palace.

Enter Timantus and Telamon.

Tela. Timantus, is the duke ready yet?

Tim. Almost.

Tela. What ails him?

Tim. Faith, I know not; I think he has dreamed he's but

eighteen: has been worse since he sent you forth for the

frizzling iron.

Tela. That cannot be; he lay in gloves all night, and this

morning I brought him a new periwig with a lock at it,

and knocked up a swing in's chamber.

Tim. O, but since, his tailor came, and they have fallen

out about the fashion on's clothes; and yonder’s a

fellow come has bored a hole in's ear; and he has

bespoke a vaulting-horse. You shall see him come forth

presently: he looks like Winter, stuck here and there

with fresh flowers.

Tela. Will he not tilt, think you?

Tim. I think he will.

Tela. What does he mean to do?

Tim. I know not; but, by this light, I think he is in love!

he would ha' bin shaved but for me.

Tela. In love? with whom?

Tim. I could guess, but you shall pardon me: he will

take me along with him somewhither.

Tela. I overheard him ask your opinion of somebody’s

beauty.

Tim. Yes; there it goes that makes him so youthful: and

he has laid by his crutch, and halts now with a leading-

staff.

Enter Leontine with a staff and a looking glass.

Leon. Timantus!

Tim. Sir?

Leon. This feather is not large enough.

Tim. Yes, faith, 'tis such a one as the rest of the young

gallants wear.

Leon. Telamon, does it do well?

Tela. Sir, it becomes you, or you become it, the rareliest −

Leon. Away! dost think so?

Tela. Think, sir! I know it. − Sir, the princess is past all

hope of life since the dwarf was put to death.

Leon. Let her be so; I have other matters in hand. But

this same tailor angers me; he has made my doublet so

wide! And, see, the knave has put no points at my arm!

Tim. Those will be put-to quickly, sir, upon any

occasion.

Leon. Telamon, have you bid this dancer come a-

mornings?

Tela. Yes, sir.

Leon. Timantus, let me see the glass again. Look you

how careless you are grown! is this tooth well put in?

Tim. Which, sir?

Leon. This, sir.

Tim. It shall be.

Tela. [Aside] Methinks that tooth should put him in

mind on's years; and Timantus stands as if (seeing the

duke in such a youthful habit) he were looking in's

mouth how old he were.

Leon. So, so.

Tela. Will you have your gown, sir?

Leon. My gown? why, am I sick? bring me my sword!

[Exit Telamon.]

Timantus, let a couple of the great horses be brought

out for us.

Tim. [Aside] He'll kill himself. − Why, will you ride,

sir?

Leon. Ride? Dost thou think I cannot ride?

Tim. Oh, yes, sir, I know it: but as I conceive your

journey, you would have it private; and then, you were

better take a coach.

Leon. These coaches make me sick; yet 'tis no matter;

let it be so.

Enter Telamon with a sword.

Tela. Sir, here's your sword.

Leon. Oh, well said! let me see it, I could, methinks –

[Endeavors to draw it.]

Why, Telamon, bring me another: what, think’st thou I

will wear a sword in vain?

Tela. [Aside] He has not strength enough to draw it. A

yoke of fleas tied to a hair would have drawn it. [Draws

the sword.] − 'Tis out, sir, now; the scabbard is broke.

Leon. Oh, put it up again, and on with it! methinks, I

am not dressed till I feel my sword on.

[Telamon sheathes it, and then puts it on Leontius.]

Telamon, if any of my council ask for me, say I am

gone to take the air.

[Exit.]

Tim. He has not been dressed this twenty years then.

If this vain hold but a week, he will learn to play o' the

base-viol, and sing to't. He's poetical already; for I have

spied a sonnet on's making lie by's bed’s side: I'll be so

unmannerly to read it.

[Exeunt.]

ACT II, SCENE V.

The Apartment of Hidaspes.

Hidaspes discovered on a bed,

Cleophila and Hero attending.

Hidas. He's dead, he's dead, and I am following!

Cleo. Ask Cupid mercy, madam.

Hidas. Oh, my heart!

Cleo. Help!

Hero. Stir her!

Hidas. Oh, oh!

Cleo. She's going; wretched women that we are!

Look to her, and I'll pray the while.

[She kneels.]

Hero. Why, Madam −

Cleo. Cupid, pardon what is past,

And forgive our sins at last!

Then we will be coy no more,

But thy deity adore:

Troths at fifteen we will plight,

And will tread a dance each night.

In the fields or by the fire,

With the youths that have desire. −

How does she yet?

Hero. Oh, ill.

Cleo. Given ear-rings we will wear,

Bracelets of our lovers’ hair,

Which they on our arms shall twist,

With their names carved, on our wrist;

All the money that we owe,

We in tokens will bestow;

And learn to write that, when 'tis sent,

Only our loves know what it meant.

Oh, then, pardon what is past,

And forgive our sins at last! –

What, mends she?

Hero. Nothing; you do it not wantonly; you should sing.

Cleo. Why −

Hero. Leave, leave! 'tis now too late: she is dead:

Her last is breathed.

Cleo. What shall we do?

Hero. Go, run,

And tell the duke; and, whilst I'll close her eyes.

[Exit Cleophila.]

Thus I shut thy faded light,

And put it in eternal night.

Where is she can boldly say,

Though she be as fresh as May,

She shall not by this corpse be laid,

Ere tomorrow’s light do fade?

Let us all now living be

Warned by thy strict chastity,

And marry all fast as we can;

Till then we keep a piece of man

Wrongfully from them that owe it:

Soon may every maid bestow it!

[Scene closes.]

ACT II, SCENE VI.

A Room in the house of Bacha.

Enter Bacha and her Maid.

Bacha. Who is it?

Maid. Forsooth, there's a gallant coach at the door, and

the brave old man in't, that you said was the duke.

Bacha. Cupid, grant he may be taken! – Away!

Maid. He is coming up, and looks the swaggeringest,

and has such glorious clothes!

Bacha. Let all the house seem sad, and see all handsome!

[Exit Maid.]

Enter Leontius and Timantus.

Leon. Nay, widow, fly not back; we come not now

[Bacha kneels.]

To chide; stand up, and bid me welcome.

Bacha. [Rising.]

To a poor widow’s house, that knows no end

Of her ill fortune, your highness is most welcome.

Leon. Come, kiss me, then! this is but manners, widow:

[Kissing her.]

Ne’er fling your head aside; I have more cause

Of grief than you; my daughter’s dead; but what!

'Tis nothing. − Is the rough French horse brought to the door?

They say he is a high-goer; I shall soon try his mettle.

Tim. He will be, sir, and the gray Barbary;

They are fiery both.

Leon. They are the better:

Before the gods, I am lightsome, very lightsome! −

How dost thou like me, widow?

Bacha. As a person

In whom all graces are.

Leon. Come, come, ye flatter:

I'll clap your cheek for that; and you shall not

Be angry. Hast no music? Now could I cut

Three times with ease, and do a cross-point should

Shame all your gallants!

Bacha. I do believe you; − [Aside] and yourself too:

Lord, what a fine old zany my love has made him!

He’s mine, I’m sure: Heaven make me thankful for him!

Leon. Tell me how old thou art, my pretty sweetheart?

Tim. Your grace will not buy her! she may trip, sir!

Bacha. My sorrow shews me elder than I am

By many years.

Leon. Thou art so witty I must kiss again.

[Kissing her.]

Tim. Indeed, her age lies not in her mouth;

Ne’er look it there, sir: she has a better register,

If it be not burnt.

Leon. I will kiss thee. [kissing her.] − I am a-fire, Timantus!

Tim. Can you choose, sir, having such heavenly fire

Before you?

Leon. Widow, guess why I come; I prithee, do.

Bacha. I cannot, sir, unless you be pleased to make

A mirth out of my rudeness;

And that I hope your pity will not let you,

The subject is so barren. –

[Aside] Bite, king, bite!

I'll let you play a while.

Leon. Now, as I am an honest man, I'll tell thee truly, −

How many foot did I jump yesterday, Timantus?

Tim. Fourteen of your own, and some three fingers.

Bacha. [Aside] This fellow lies as lightly as if he

Were in cut taffeta;

Alas, good almanac, get thee to bed,

And tell what weather we shall have tomorrow!

Leon. Widow, I come, in short, to be a suitor.

Bacha. For whom?

Leon. Why, by my troth, I come to woo thee, wench,

And win thee, for myself: nay, look upon me;

I have about me that will do it.

Bacha. Now Heaven defend me!

Your whore you shall never. I thank the gods, I have

A little left me to keep me warm and honest:

If your grace take not that, I seek no more.

Leon. I am so far from taking anything,

I'll add unto thee.

Bacha. Such additions may

Be for your ease, sir, not my honesty:

I am well in being single; good sir, seek another;

I am no meat for money.

Leon. Shall I fight for thee?

This sword shall cut his throat that dares lay claim

But to a finger of thee, but to a look;

I would see such a fellow!

Bacha. [Aside] It would be but a cold sight to you!

This is the father of St. George a foot-back;

Can such dry mummy talk?

Tim. Before the gods, your grace looks like Æneas.

Bacha. [Aside] He looks like his old father upon his back,

Crying to get aboard.

Leon. How shall I win thy love? I pray thee, tell me.

I'll marry thee, if thou desirest that:

That is an honest course, − I’m in good earnest, −

and presently, within this hour, − I’m mad for thee: −

Prithee, deny me not; for, as I live

I'll pine for thee, but I will have thee!

Bacha. [Aside] Now he is in the toil, I'll hold him fast.

Tim. You do not know what 'tis to be a queen:

Go to; you’re mad else. What the old man falls short of,

There's others can eke out, when you please to call on 'em.

Bacha. I understand you not. – Love, I adore thee! −

Sir, on my knees I give you hearty thanks

[Kneels.]

For so much honoring your humble handmaid

Above her birth, far more her weak deservings.

I dare not trust the envious tongues of all

That must repine at my unworthy rising;

Beside, you have many fair ones in your kingdom

Born to such worth: oh, turn yourself about,

And make a noble choice!

Leon. [Raising her.]

If I do, let me famish! I will have thee,

Or break up house, and board here.

Bacha. Sir, you may

Command an unwilling woman to obey ye:

But Heaven knows −

Leon. No more:

These half-a-dozen kisses, and this jewel,

[Kissing her, and giving jewel.]

And everything I have, and sway with me,

And clap it up; and have a boy by morning! –

Timantus, let one be sent

Post for my son again, and for Ismenus;

They are scarce twenty miles on their way yet:

By that time we'll be married.

Tim. There shall, sir.

[Exeunt.]

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Before the Palace.

Enter Dorialus, Agenor, and Nisus.

Nisus. Is not this a fine marriage?

Agen. Yes, yes; let it alone.

Dor. Ay, ay, the king may marry whom 's list. Let's

talk of other matters.

Nisus. Is the prince coming home certainly?

Dor. Yes, yes; he was sent post for yesterday: let’s

make haste; we'll see how his new mother-in-law will

entertain him.

Nisus. Why, well, I warrant you: did you not mark how

humbly she carried herself to us on her marriage-day,

acknowledging her own unworthiness, and that she

would be our servant?

Dor. But mark what's done.

Nisus. Regard not show.

Agen. Oh, God! I knew her when I have been offered

her to be brought to my bed for five pounds; whether it

could have been performed or no, I know not.

Nisus. Her daughter’s a pretty lady.

Dor. Yes: and having had but mean bringing-up, it talks

the prettiliest and innocentliest! the queen will be so

angry to hear her betray her breeding by her language!

but I am persuaded she's well disposed.

Agen. I think, better than her mother.

Nisus. Come, we stay too long.

[Exeunt.]

ACT III, SCENE II.

An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Leucippus and Ismenus.

Ism. How now, man! struck dead with a tale?

Leuc. No, but with a truth.

Ism. Stand of yourself: can you endure blows, and

shrink at words?

Leuc. Thou knowest I have told thee all.

Ism. But that all's nothing to make you thus: your

sister’s dead.

Leuc. That's much; but not the most.

Ism. Why, for the other, let her marry and hang! 'tis no

purposed fault of yours: and if your father will needs

have your cast whore, you shall shew the duty of a child

better in being contented, and bidding much good do

his good old heart with her, than in repining thus at it;

let her go: what! there are more wenches, man; we'll

have another.

Leuc. Oh, thou art vain! thou know’st I do not love her.

What shall I do? I would my tongue had led me

To any other thing, but blasphemy,

So I had missed commending of this woman,

Whom I must reverence, now she is my mother!

My sin, Ismenus, has wrought all this ill:

And I beseech thee to be warned by me,

And do not lie! if any man should ask thee

But how thou dost, or what o’clock 'tis now,

Be sure thou do not lie; make no excuse

For him that is most near thee; never let

The most officious falsehood scape thy tongue;

For they above (that are entirely truth)

Will make that seed which thou hast sown of lies

Yield miseries a-thousand fold

Upon thine head, as they have done on mine.

Enter Timantus.

Tim. Sir, your highness is welcome home: the king and

queen will presently come forth to you.

Leuc. I'll wait on them.

Tim. Worthy Ismenus, I pray you, have you sped in

your wars?

Ism. This rogue mocks me. − Well, Timantus. Pray,

how have you sped here at home at shovelboard?

Tim. Faith, reasonable. How many towns have you

taken in this summer?

Ism. How many stags have you been at the death of

this grass?

Tim. A number. Pray, how is the province settled?

Ism. Prithee, how does the dun nag?

Tim. I think you mock me, my lord.

Ism. Mock thee? Yes, by my troth, do I: why what

wouldst thou have me do with thee? Art good for

anything else?

Enter Leontius, Bacha, Dorialus, Agenor, Nisus,

and Telamon.

Leuc. My good Ismenus, hold me by the wrist:

And if thou see'st me fainting, wring me hard,

For I shall swoon again else.−

[Kneels.]

Leon. Welcome my son! rise. I did send for thee

Back from the province, by thy mother's counsel,

[Leucippus rises.]

Thy good mother here, who loves thee well;

She would not let me venture all my joy

Amongst my enemies. I thank thee for her,

And none but thee; I took her on thy word.

Leuc. [Aside to Ismenus.] Pinch harder.

Leon. And she shall bid thee welcome: I have now

Some near affairs, but I will drink a health

To thee anon. – Come, Telamon. − I’m grown

Lustier, I thank thee for't, since I married. −

Why, Telamon, I can stand now alone,

And never stagger.

Bacha. Welcome, most noble sir, whose fame is come

Hither before you: −

[Exit Leontius and Telamon.]

Out, alas! you scorn me,

And teach me what to do.

Leuc. No; you are

My mother.

Bacha. Far unworthy of that name,

God knows: but, trust me, here before these lords,

I am no more but nurse unto the duke;

Nor will I breed a faction in the state;

It is too much for me that I am raised

Unto his bed, and will remain the servant

Of you that did it.

Leuc. Madam, I will serve you

As shall become me. –

[Aside] Oh, dissembling woman!

Whom I must reverence though. Take from thy quiver,

Sure-aimed Apollo, one of thy swift darts,

Headed with thy consuming golden beams,

And let it melt this body into mist,

That none may find it!

Bacha. Shall I beg, my lords,

This room in private for the prince and me?

[Exeunt all except Leucippus and Bacha.]

Leuc. [Aside]

What will she say now?

Bacha. [Aside] I must still enjoy him:

Yet there is still left in me a spark of woman,

That wishes he would move it; but he stands

As if he grew there, with his eyes on earth. −

Sir, you and I, when we were last together

Kept not this distance, as we were afraid

Of blasting by ourselves.

Leuc. Madam 'tis true;

Heaven pardon it!

Bacha. Amen sir. You may think

That I have done you wrong in this strange marriage.

Leuc. 'Tis past now.

Bacha. But it was no fault of mine:

The world had called me mad, had I refused

The king: nor laid I any train to catch him,

It was your own oaths did it.

Leuc. 'Tis a truth,

That takes my sleep away: but would to Heaven,

If it had so been pleased, you had refused him,

Though I had gratified that courtesy

With having you myself! But since 'tis thus,

I do beseech you that you will be honest

From henceforth; and not abuse his credulous age,

Which you may easily do. As for myself,

What I can say, you know, alas, too well

Is tied within me! here it will sit like lead,

But shall offend no other; it will pluck me

Back from my entrance into any mirth,

As if a servant came, and whispered with me

Of some friend's death. But I will bear myself

To you with all the due obedience

A son owes to a mother: more than this

Is not in me; but I must leave the rest

To the just gods, who in their blessèd time,

When they have given me punishment enough,

For my rash sin, will mercifully find

As unexpected means to ease my grief

As they did now to bring it.

Bacha. [Aside] Grown so godly?

This must not be. − and I will be to you

No other than a natural mother ought;

And for my honesty, so you will swear

Never to urge me, I shall keep it safe

From any other.

Leuc. Bless me! I should urge you!

Bacha. Nay, but swear, then, that I may be at peace;

For I do feel a weakness in myself,

That can deny you nothing: if you tempt me,

I shall embrace sin, as it were a friend,

And run to meet it.

Leuc. If you knew how far

It were from me, you would not urge an oath;

But for your satisfaction, when I tempt you −

Bacha. Swear not –

[Aside] I cannot move him. − This sad talk

Of things past help does not become us well:

Shall I send one for my musicians, and we'll dance?

Leuc. Dance, Madam!

Bacha. Yes, a lavolta.

Leuc. I cannot dance, Madam.

Bacha. Then let’s be merry.

Leuc. I am as my fortunes bid me;

Do not you see me sour?

Bacha. Yes.

And why think you I smile?

Leuc. I am so far

From any joy myself, I cannot fancy

A cause of mirth.

Bacha. I'll tell you: we are alone.

Leuc. Alone?

Bacha. Yes.

Leuc. 'Tis true: what then?

Bacha. What then!

You make my smiling now break into laughter:

What think you is to be done then?

Leuc. We should pray

To Heaven for mercy.

Bacha. Pray! that were a way indeed

To pass the time! but I will make you blush,

To see a bashful woman teach a man

What we should do alone: try again

If you can find it out.

Leuc. I dare not think

I understand you.

Bacha. I must teach you, then;

Come, kiss me.

Leuc. Kiss you!

Bacha. Yes: be not ashamed

You did it not yourself; I will forgive you.

Leuc. Keep, you displeasèd gods, the due respect

I ought to bear unto this wicked woman,

As she is now my mother, fast within me,

Lest I add sins to sins, till no repentance

Will cure me.

Bacha. Leave these melancholy moods,

That I may swear thee welcome on thy lips

A thousand times.

Leuc. Pray, leave this wicked talk:

You do not know to what my father’s wrong

May urge me.

Bacha. I'm careless, and do weigh

The world, my life, and all my after hopes

Nothing without thy love; mistake me not;

Thy love, as I have had it, free and open

As wedlock is, within itself. What say you?

Leuc. Nothing.

Bacha. [Kneels.] Pity me! behold a duchess

Kneels for thy mercy; and I swear to you,

Though I should lie with you, it is no lust,

For it desires no change; I could with you

Content myself. What answer will you give?

Leuc. They that can answer must be less amazed

Than I am now: you see my tears deliver

My meaning to you.

Bacha. Shall I be contemned?

Thou art a beast, worse than a savage beast,

To let a lady kneel, to beg that thing

Which a right man would offer.

Leuc. 'Tis your will,

Heaven! but let me bear me like myself,

However she does.

Bacha. [Rising.] Were you made an eunuch

Since you went hence? yet they have more desire

Than I can find in you. How fond was I

To beg thy love! I'll force thee to my will:

Dost thou not know that I can make the king

Dote as my list? Yield quickly, or, by Heaven,

I'll have thee kept in prison for my purpose!

Where I will make thee serve my turn, and have thee

Fed with such meats as best shall fit my ends,

And not thy health, − why dost not speak to me? −

And when thou dost displease me, and art grown

Less able to perform, then I will have thee

Killed and forgotten: are you stricken dumb?

Leuc. All you have named, but making of me sin

With you, you may command, but never that:

Say what you will, I'll hear you as becomes me;

If you speak [wickedly], I will not follow

Your counsel, neither will I tell the world

To your disgrace, but give you the just honor

That is due from me to my father's wife.

Bacha. Lord, how full of wise formality

You’re grown of late! but you were telling me

You could have wished that I had married you:

If you will swear so yet, I'll make away

The king.

Leuc. You are a strumpet!

Bacha. Nay, I care not

For all your railings: they will batter walls

And take in towns, as soon as trouble me:

Tell him, I care not; I shall undo you only,

Which is no matter.

Leuc. I appeal to you

Still, and forever, that are and cannot

Be other! − Madam, I see 'tis in your power

To work your will on him: and I desire you

To lay what trains you will for my wished death,

But suffer him to find his quiet grave

In peace; alas he never did you wrong!

And farther, I beseech you pardon me

For the ill word I gave you; for however

You may deserve, it became not me

To call you so; but passion urges me

I know not whither. − My heart, break now,

And ease me ever!

Bacha. Pray you, get you hence

With your godly humor! I am weary of you

Extremely.

Leuc. Trust me, so am I of myself too.

Madam, I'll take my leave. Gods set all right!

[Exit Leucippus.]

Bacha. Amen, sir. Get you gone!

Am I denied? it does not trouble me

That I have moved, but that I am refused:

I have lost my patience. I will make him know

Lust is not love; for lust will find a mate

While there are men; and so will I, and more

Than one or twenty.

Enter Timantus.

[Aside] Yonder is Timantus,

A fellow void of any worth to raise himself,

And therefore like to catch at any evil

That will but pluck him up: him will I make

Mine own: − Timantus!

Tim. Madam?

Bacha. Thou know'st well

Thou wert by chance a means of this my raising, −

Brought the duke to me; and though 'twere but chance

I must reward thee.

Tim. I shall bend my service

Unto your highness.

Bacha. But do it, then, entirely and in everything;

And tell me, couldst thou now think that thing thou

Wouldst not do for me?

Tim. No, by my soul, madam.

Bacha. Then thou art right.

Go to my lodging, and I'll follow thee,

With my instruction.

[Exit Timantus.]

I do see already

This prince, that did but now contemn me, dead:

Yet will I never speak an evil word

Unto his father of him, till I have

Won a belief I love him; but I'll make

His virtues his undoing, and my praises

Shall be so many swords against his breast:

Which once performed, I'll make Urania,

My daughter, the king’s heir, and plant my issue

In this large throne; nor shall it be withstood:

They that begin in lust must end in blood.

[Exit.]

ACT III, SCENE III.

Before the Palace.

Enter Dorialus, Agenor, and Nisus.

Dor. We live to know a fine time, gentlemen.

Nisus. And a fine duke, that, through his doting age,

Suffers himself to be a child again,

Under his wives’ tuition.

Agen. All the land

Holds in that tenor too, in woman’s service:

Sure, we shall learn to spin.

Dor. No, that's too honest:

We shall have other liberal sciences

Taught us too soon; lying and flattering,

Those are the studies now: and murder shortly

I know will be humanity. Gentlemen,

If we live here we must be knaves, believe it.

Nisus. I cannot tell, my lord Dorialus;

Though my own nature hate it,

If all determine to be knaves, I'll try

What I can do upon myself, that's certain:

I will not have my throat cut for my goodness;

The virtue will not quit the pain.

Agen. But pray you, tell me,

Why is the prince, now ripe and full experient,

Not made a doer in the state?

Nisus. Because he is honest.

Enter Timantus.

Tim. Goodness attend your honours!

Dor. You must not be amongst us then.

Tim. The duchess,

Whose humble servant I am proud to be,

Would speak with you.

Agen. Sir, we are pleased to wait:

When is it?

Tim. An hour hence, my good lords; and so

I leave my service.

[Exit.]

Dor. This is one of her ferrets that she bolts business

out withal: this fellow, if he were well ripped, has all

the linings of a knave within him: how sly he looks!

Nisus. Have we nothing about our clothes that he may

catch at?

Agen. O’ my conscience, there's no treason in my

doublet, if there be, my elbows will discover it, − they

are out.

Dor. Faith, and all the harm that I can find in mine is,

that they are not paid for: let him make what he can of

that, so he discharge that. Come, let's go.

[Exeunt.]

ACT III, SCENE IV.

An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Bacha, Leontius, and Telamon.

Bacha. And you shall find, sir, what a blessing Heaven

Gave you in such a son.

Leon. Pray gods, I may! let's walk and change our subject.

Bacha. Oh, sir, can anything come sweeter to you,

Or strike a deeper joy into your heart,

Than your son's virtue?

Leon. I allow his virtues:

But 'tis not handsome thus to feed myself

With such immoderate praises of mine own.

Bacha. The subject of our commendatións

Is itself grown so infinite in goodness,

That all the glory we can lay upon it,

Though we should open volumes of his praises,

Is a mere modesty in his expression,

and shews him lame still, like an ill-wrought piece

Wanting proportion.

Leon. Yet still he is a man, and subject still

To more inordinate vices than our love

Can give him blessings.

Bacha. Else he were a god:

Yet so near, as he is, he comes to Heaven,

That we may see, so far as flesh can point us,

Things only worthy them, and only these

In all his actions.

Leon. This is too much, my queen.

Bacha. Had the gods loved me, that my unworthy womb

Had bred this brave man −

Leon. Still you run wrong.

Bacha. I would have lived upon the comfort of him,

Fed on his growing hopes.

Leon. This touches me.

Bacha. I know no friends, nor being, but his virtues.

Leon. You have laid out words enough upon a subject.

Bacha. But words cannot express him, sir.

Why, what a shape Heaven has conceived him in!

Oh, Nature made him up −

Leon. I wonder, duchess −

Bacha. So you must: for less than admiration

Loses this godlike man.

Leon. Have you done with him?

Bacha. Done with! Oh good gods,

What qualities thus pass by us without reverence!

Leon. I see no such perfection.

Bacha. O, dear sir, you are a father, and those joys

To you speak in your heart, not in your tongue.

Leon. This leaves a taste behind it worse than physic.

Bacha. Then, for his wisdom, valour, good fortune, and all

Those friends of honour, they are in him as free

And natural as passions in a woman.

Leon. You make me blush, at all these years,

To see how blindly you have flung your praises

Upon a boy, a very child; and worthless,

Whilst I live, of these honours.

Bacha. I would not have my love, sir, make my tongue

Shew me so much a woman, as to praise

Or dispraise, where my will is, without reason,

Or general allowance of the people.

Leon. Allowance of the people! what allow they?

Bacha. All I have said for truth; and they must do it,

And dote upon him, love him, and admire him.

Leon. How's that?

Bacha. For in this youth and noble forwardness

All things are bound together that are kingly;

A fitness to bear rule −

Leon. No more.

Bacha. And sovereignty

Not made to know command.

Leon. I have said, no more!

Bacha. I have done, sir, though unwilling; and pardon me.

Leon. I do; not a word more!

Bacha. [Aside] I have gi'n thee poison,

Of more infection than the dragon’s tooth,

Or the gross air o'er heated.

Enter Timantus.

Leon. Timantus, when

Saw you the prince?

Tim. I left him now, sir.

Leon. Tell me truly,

Out of your free opinion, without courting,

How you like him.

Tim. How I like him?

Leon. Yes:

For you in conversation may see more

Than a father.

Bacha. [Aside] It works.

Tim. Your grace has chosen out an ill observer.

Leon. Yes, I mean of his ill: you take rightly.

Tim. But you take me wrong. All I know by him

I dare deliver boldly: he is the storehouse

And head of virtue, your great self excepted,

That feeds the kingdom.

Leon. These are flatteries: speak me his vices, there

You do a service worth a father’s thanks.

Tim. Sir, I cannot. If there be any, sure

They are the times, which I could wish less dangerous.

But pardon me, I am too bold.

Leon. You are not:

Forward, and open what these dangers are!

Tim. Nay, good sir −

Leon. Nay, fall not off again; I will have all.

Tim. Alas, sir, what am I, you should believe

My eyes or ears, so subtle to observe

Faults in a state? all my main business

Is service to your grace, and necessaries

For my poor life.

Leon. Do not displease me, sirrah;

But that you know tell me, and presently.

Tim. Since your grace will have it

I'll speak it freely; always my obedience

And love preserved unto the prince.

Leon. Prithee, to the matter.

Tim. For, sir, if you consider

How like a sun in all his great employments,

How full of heat −

Leon. Make me understand

What I desire.

Tim. And then at his return −

Leon. Do not anger me!

Tim. Then thus sir: all mislike you,

As they would do the gods, if they did dwell with 'em.

Leon. What?

Tim. Talk and prate as their ignorant rages lead ‘em,

Without allegiance or religión.

For Heaven’s sake, have a care of your own person!

I cannot tell; their wickedness may lead

Farther than I dare think yet.

Leon. Oh, base people!

Tim. Yet the prince,

For whom this is pretended, may persuade 'em,

And no doubt will; virtue is ever watchful:

But be you still secured and comforted!

Leon. Heaven, how have I offended, that this rod

So heavy and unnatural, should fall upon me

When I am old and helpless?

Tim. Brave gentleman!

That such a madding love should follow thee,

To rob thee of a father! All the court

Is full of dangerous whispers.

Leon. I perceive it:

And spite of all their strengths, will make my safety:

I'll cut him shorter, I'll cut him shorter first, −

Then let him rule!

Bacha. What a foul age is this,

When virtue is made a sword to smite the virtuous!

Alas, alas!

Leon. I'll teach him to fly lower.

Tim. By no means, sir; rather make more your love,

And hold your favor to him: for 'tis now

Impossible to yoke him, if his thoughts, −

As I must ne'er believe, − run with their rages, −

He ever was so innocent. But what reason

His grace has to withdraw his love from me

And other good men that are near your person,

I cannot yet find out; I know my duty

Has ever been attending.

Leon. 'Tis too plain:

He means to play the villain; I'll prevent him.

Not a word more of this; be private.

[Exit Leontius.]

Tim. Madam, 'tis done.

Bacha. He cannot escape me. Have you spoken with

The noblemen?

Tim. Yes, Madam; they are here.

I wait a farther service.

Bacha. Till you see the prince,

You need no more instructions.

Tim. No, I have it.

[Exit Timantus.]

Bacha. That fool that willingly provokes a woman,

Has made himself another evil angel,

And a new hell, to which all other torments

Are but mere pastime.

Enter Dorialus, Agenor, and Nisus.

Now, my noble Lords,

You must excuse me, that unmannerly

We have broke your private business.

Agen. Your good grace

May command us, and that.

Bacha. Faith, my Lord Agenor:

It is so good a cause, I’m confident

You cannot lose by it.

Dor. [Aside] Which way does she fish now?

The devil is but a fool to a right woman.

Nisus. Madam, we must needs win in doing service

To such a gracious lady.

Bacha. I thank you, and will let you know the business,

So I may have your helps: never be doubtful;

For 'tis so just a cause, and will to you

Upon the knowledge seem so honourable,

That I assure myself your willing hearts

Will straight be for me in it.

Agen. [Aside to Dorialus.]

If she should prove good now, what wer 't like?

Dor. Thunder in January, or a good woman; that's

stranger than all the monsters in Afric.

Bacha. It shall not need your wonder; this it is:

The duke you know is old, and rather subject

To ease and prayers now, than all those troubles,

Cares, and continual watchings, that attend

A kingdom’s safety; therefore, to prevent

The fall of such a flourishing estate

As this has ever been, and to put off

The murmurs of the people, that increase

Against my government, which the gods know

I only feel the trouble of, I present

The prince unto your loves, a gentleman

In whom all excellencies are knit together,

All pieces of a true man: let your prayers

Win from the duke half his vexation,

That he may undertake it, whose discretion,

I must confess, though it be from the father,

Yet now is stronger, and more apt to govern:

'Tis not my own desire, but all the land's,

I know the weakness of it.

Nisus. Madam, this noble care and love has won us

Forever to your loves: we'll to the king,

And since your grace has put it in our mouths,

We'll win him with the cunning'st words we can.

Dor. [Aside] I was never cozened in a woman before;

For commonly they are like apples; if once they bruise,

They will grow rotten through, and serve for nothing

But to assuage swellings.

Bacha. Good lords, delay no time, since 'tis your good
pleasures

To think my counsel good; and by no means

Let the prince know it, whose affectións

Will stir mainly against it: besides, his father

May hold him dangerous, if it be not carried

So that his forward will appear not in it.

Go, and be happy!

Dor. [Aside] Well, I would not be chronicled as thou

Wilt be for a good woman, for all the world.

Nisus. Madam, we kiss your hand; and so inspired,

Nothing but happiness can crown our prayers.

[Exeunt.]

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Leucippus and Ismenus.

Leuc. And thus she has used me; is't not a good mother?

Ism. Why killed you her not?

Leuc. The gods forbid it!

Ism. S'light, if all the women i'th' world were barren,

she had died!

Leuc. But 'tis not reason directs thee thus.

Ism. Then have I none at all; for all I have in me directs

me: your father's in a pretty rage.

Leuc. Why?

Ism. Nay, 'tis well if he know himself. But some of the

nobility have delivered a petition to him: what's in't, I

know not; but it has put him to his trumps: he has taken

a month’s time to answer it, and chafes like himself.

Enter Leontius, led on by Telamon, and Bacha.

Leuc. He's here, Ismenus.

Leon. Set me down, Telamon. – Leucippus!

Leuc. Sir?

Bacha. Nay, good sir, be at peace; I dare swear

He knew not of it.

Leon. You are foolish; peace.

Bacha. All will go ill! Deny it boldly, sir;

Trust me, he cannot prove it by you.

Leuc. What?

Bacha. You'll make all worse too with your facing it.

Leuc. What is the matter?

Leon. Know'st thou that petition?

Look on it well: wouldst thou be joined with me?

Unnatural child, to be weary of me,

Ere fate esteem me fit for other worlds!

Bacha. Maybe he knows not of it.

Leuc. Oh, strange carriages!

Sir, as I have hope that there is anything

To reward doing well, my usages,

Which have been, − but 'tis no matter what, −

Have put me so far from the thought of greatness,

That I should welcome it like a disease

That grew upon me, and I could not cure.

They are my enemies that gave you this:

And yet they call me friend, and are themselves

I fear, abused. I am weary of my life;

For God’s sake, take it from me! it creates

More mischief in the state than it is worth.

The usage I have had, I know would make

Wisdom herself run frantic through the streets,

And Patience quarrel with her shadow. Sir,

This sword −

[Offers his sword to Leontius.]

Bacha. Alas! help, for the love of Heaven! −

Make way through me first; for he is your father.

Leon. What, would he kill me?

Bacha. No, sir, no.

Leon. Thou always mak'st the best on't; but I fear −

Leuc. Why do you use me thus? who is't can think

That I would kill my father, that can yet

Forbear to kill you? − Here, sir, is my sword;

[Throws down his sword.]

I dare not touch it, lest she say again

I would have killed you. Let me not have mercy

When I most need it, if I would not change

Place with my meanest servant! –

[Aside to Bacha.] Let these faults

Be mended, madam: if you saw how ill

They did become you, you would part with them.

Bacha. I told the duke as much before.

Leuc. What? what did you tell him?

Bacha. That it was only an ambitión,

Nursed in you by your youth, provoked you thus,

Which age would take away.

Leon. It was his doing then? − Come hither, love.

Bacha. No indeed, sir.

Leuc. How am I made, that I can bear all this?

If anyone had used a friend of mine

Near this, my hand had carried death about it.

Leon. Lead me hence, Telamon. – Come, my dear Bacha.

I shall find time for this.

Ism. Madam, you know I dare not speak before

The king; but you know well, (if not, I'll tell it you,)

You are the most wicked'st and most murderous strumpet

That ever was called woman!

Bacha. My lord,

What can I do for him, he shall command me.

Leon. I know thou art too kind; away, I say!

[Exeunt Leontius, Bacha, and Telamon.]

Ism. Sir, I am sure we dream; this cannot be.

Leuc. Oh, that we did! my wickedness has brought

All this to pass, else I should bear myself.

[Urania passes over the stage.]

Ism. Look, do you see who's there? your virtuous

mother’s issue: kill her; yet take some little piddling

revenge.

Leuc. Away!

The whole court calls her virtuous; for they say

She is unlike her mother; and if so,

She can have no vice.

Ism. I'll trust none of 'em

That come of such a breed.

Leuc. But I have found

A kind of love in her to me: alas,

Think of her death! I dare be sworn for her,

She is as free from any hate to me

As her bad mother's full. She was brought up

I' the country, as her tongue will let you know,

If you but talk with her, with a poor uncle,

Such as her mother had.

Enter Urania.

Ism. She's come again.

Ura. I would fen speak to the good marquis, my brother,

If I but thought he could abide me.

Leuc. Sister, how do you?

Ura. Very well, I thank you.

Ism. How does your good mother?

Leuc. Fie, fie, Ismenus,

For shame! mock such an innocent soul as this!

Ura. Feth, a' she be no good, God ma’ her so.

Leuc. I know you wish it with your heart, dear sister:

But she is good, I hope.

Ism. Are you so simple,

To make so much of this? do you not know

That all her wicked mother labours for

Is but to raise her to your right, and leave her

This dukedom?

Ura. Ay; but ne'er, sir, be afred;

For though she take th' ungainest weas she can,

I'll ne'er ha't fro' you.

Leuc. I should hate myself, Ismenus,

If I should think of her simplicity

Aught but extremely well.

Ism. Nay, as you will.

Ura. And though she be my mother,

If she take any caurse to do you wrang,

If I can see't, you’st quickly hear on't, sir:

And so I'll take my leave.

Leuc. Farewell, good sister:

I thank you.

[Exit Urania.]

Ism. You believe all this?

Leuc. Yes.

Ism. A good faith doth well; but, methinks, it were no

hard matter now for her mother to send her.

Enter Timantus.

Yonder's one you may trust, if you will, too.

Leuc. So I will,

If he can shew me as apparent signs

Of truth as she did. Does he weep, Ismenus?

Ism. Yes, I think so: some good's happened, I warrant.

− Do you hear, you? what honest man has scaped

misery, that thou art crying thus?

Tim. Noble Ismenus, where's the prince?

Ism. Why, there: hast wept thine eyes out?

Tim. Sir, I beseech you, hear me.

Leuc. Well, speak on.

Ism. Why, will you hear him?

Leuc. Yes, Ismenus; why?

Ism. I would hear blasphemy as willingly.

Leuc. You are to blame.

Tim. No, sir, he is not to blame, if I were as I was.

Ism. Nor as thou art, i’faith, a whit to blame.

Leuc. What's your business?

Tim. Faith, sir, I am ashamed to speak before you;

My conscience tells me I have injured you,

And, by the earnest instigatión

Of others, have not done you to the king

Always the best and friendliest offices:

Which pardon me, or I will never speak.

Ism. Never pardon him, and silence a knave.

Leuc. I pardon thee.

Tim. Your mother sure is naught.

Leuc. Why shouldst thou think so?

Tim. Oh, noble sir, your honest eyes perceive not

The dangers you are led to! Shame upon her,

And what fell miseries the gods can think on,

Shower down upon her wicked head! she has plotted,

I know too well, your death: would my poor life,

Or thousand such as mine is, might be offered

Like sacrifices up for your preserving;

What free oblations would she have to glut her!

But she is merciless, and bent to ruin,

If Heaven and good men step not to your rescue,

And timely, very timely. Oh, this dukedom!

I weep, I weep for the poor orphans i'th' country,

Left with but friends or parents.

Leuc. Now, Ismenus, what think you of this fellow?

This was a lying knave, a flatterer!

Does not this love still shew him so?

Ism. This love? this halter. If he prove not yet

The cunning'st, rankest rogue that ever canted,

I'll never see man again; I know him to bring,

And can interpret every new face he makes:

Look how he wrings, like a good stool, for a tear:

Take heed;

Children and fools first feel the smart, then weep.

Leuc. Away, away! such an unkind distrust,

Is worse than a dissembling, if it be one,

And sooner leads to mischief. I believe it,

And him an honest man: he could not carry,

Under an evil cause, so true a sorrow.

Ism. Take heed; this is your mother’s scorpion,

That carries stings even in his tears, whose soul

Is a rank poison through: touch not at him;

If you do, you are gone, if you had twenty lives:

I knew him from a roguish boy,

When he would poison dogs, and keep tame toads;

He lay with his mother, and infected her,

And now she begs i' the hospital, with a patch

Of velvet where her nose stood, like the queen

Of spades, and all her teeth in her purse.

The devil and this fellow are so near,

'Tis not yet known which is the eviler angel.

Leuc. Nay, then, I see 'tis spite. − Come hither, friend:

Hast thou not heard the cause yet that incensed

My mother to my death? for I protest

I feel none in myself.

Tim. Her will, sir, and ambition, as I think,

Are the provokers of it, as in women

Those two are ever powerful to destruction;

Beside a hate of your still-growing virtues,

She being only wicked.

Leuc. Heavens defend me,

As I am innocent, and ever have been,

From all immoderate thoughts and actións,

That carry such rewards along with 'em!

Tim. Sir, all I know, my duty must reveal:

My country and my love command it from me,

For whom I'll lay my life down: this night coming,

A counsel is appointed by the duke

To sit about your apprehensión:

If you dare trust my faith, (which, by all good things,

Shall ever watch about you!) go along,

And to a place I'll guide you, where no word

Shall scape without your hearing, nor no plot

Without discovering to you; which once known,

You have your answers and preventión.

Ism. You are not so mad to go! shift off this fellow;

You shall be ruled once by a wise man. – Ratsbane,

Get you gone, or −

Leuc. Peace, peace for shame! thy love is too suspicious;

'Tis a way offered to preserve my life,

And I will take it: − be my guide, Timantus,

And do not mind this angry man; thou know'st him:

I may live to requite thee.

Tim. Sir, this service

Is done for virtue's sake, not for reward,

However he may hold me.

Ism. The great pox on you! but thou hast that curse so much,

'Twill grow a blessing in thee shortly. − Sir,

For wisdom’s sake, court not your death! I am

Your friend and subject, and I shall lose in both:

If I loved you not, I would laugh at you, and see you

Run your neck into the noose, and cry, “A woodcock!”

Leuc. So much of man, and so much fearful, fie!

Prithee, have peace within thee: I shall live yet

Many a golden day to hold thee here

Dearest and nearest to me. − Go on, Timantus, −

I charge you by your love, no more, no more!

[Exeunt Leucippus and Timantus.]

Ism. Go, and let your own rod whip you! I pity you.

And dog, if he miscarry, thou shalt pay for't;

I'll study for thy punishment, and it shall last

Longer and sharper than a tedious winter,

Till thou blasphem'st, and then thou diest and damn'st.

[Exit.]

ACT IV, SCENE II.

Another Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Leontius and Telamon.

Leon. I wonder the duchess comes not.

Tela. She has heard, sir, your will to speak with her:

But there is something leaden at her heart,

(Pray God it be not mortal!) that even keeps her

From conversation with herself.

Enter Bacha.

Bacha. Oh, whither

Will you, my cross affections, pull me? Fortune, Fate,

And you whose powers direct our actións,

And dwell within us, you that are angels

Guiding to virtue, wherefore have you given

So strong a hand to evil? wherefore suffered

A temple of your own, you deities,

Where your fair selves dwelt only, and your goodness,

Thus to be soiled with sin?

Leon. Heaven bless us all!

From whence comes this distemper? speak, my fair one.

Bacha. And have you none, Love and Obedience,

Your ever-faithful servants, to employ

In this strange story of impiety

But me, a mother? must I be your trumpet,

To lay black treason open? and in him

In whom all sweetness was; in whom my love

Was [proud] to have a being; in whom justice,

And all the gods for our imaginations

Can work into a man, were more than virtues?

Ambition, down to hell, where thou wert fostered!

Thou hast poisoned the best soul, the purest, whitest,

And merest innocence itself, that ever

Men’s greedy hopes gave life to.

Leon. This is still stranger: lay this treason open

To my correction.

Bacha. Oh, what a combat duty and affection

Breed in my blood!

Leon. If thou conceal'st him, may,

Beside my death, the curses of the country,

Troubles of conscience, and a wretched end,

Bring thee unto a poor forgotten grave!

Bacha. My being, for another tongue to tell it!

Oh, ease a mother, some good man that dares

Speak for his king and country! I am full

Of too much woman’s pity: yet, oh, Heaven,

Since it concerns the safety of my sovereign,

Let it not be a cruèlty in me,

Nor draw a mother’s name in questión

Amongst unborn people, to give up that man

To law and justice, that unrighteously

Has sought his father’s death! Be deaf, be deaf, sir!

Your son is the offender: now have you all;

Would I might never speak again!

Leon. My son!

Heaven help me! No more: I thought it;

And since his life is grown so dangerous,

Let them that gave him take him: he shall die,

And with him all my fears.

Bacha. Oh, use your mercy!

You have a brave subject to bestow it on:

I'll forgive him, sir; and for his wrong to me,

I'll be before you.

Leon. Durst his villainy

Extend to thee?

Bacha. Nothing but heats of youth, sir.

Leon. Upon my life, he sought my bed!

Bacha. I must confess he loved me

Somewhat beyond a son; and still pursued it

With such a lust, I will not say ambition,

That, clean forgetting all obedience,

And only following his first heat unto me,

He hotly sought your death, and me in marriage.

Leon. Oh, villain!

Bacha. But I forget all: and am half ashamed

To press a man so far.

Enter Timantus.

Tim. Where is the duke? for God’s sake bring me to him!

Leon. Here I am: − each corner of the dukedom

Sends new affrights forth: − what wouldst thou? speak.

Tim. I cannot, sir, my fear ties up my tongue.

Leon. Why, what's the matter? Take thy courage to thee,

And boldly speak. − Where are the guard? − In the
god’s name,

Out with it!

Enter the Guard.

Tim. Treason, treason!

Leon. In whom?

Bacha. Double the guard!

Tim. There is a fellow, sir −

Leon. Leave shaking, man.

Tim. 'Tis not for fear, but wonder.

Leon. Well?

Tim. There is a fellow, sir, close i' the lobby: −

You o' the guard, look to the door there!

Leon. But let me know the business.

Tim. Oh, that the hearts of men should be so hardened

Against so good a duke! − For God’s sake, sir,

Seek means to save yourself! this wretched slave

Has his sword in his hand; I know his heart:

Oh, it hath almost killed me with the thought of it!

Leon. Where is he?

Tim. I' the lobby, sir, close in a corner:

Look to yourselves, for Heaven’s sake! methinks

He is here already. − Fellows of the guard, be valiant!

[Exeunt the Guard.]

Leon. Go, sirs, and apprehend him. Treason shall

Never dare me in mine own gates.

Tim. 'Tis done.

Bacha. And thou shalt find it to thy best content.

Leon. Are these the comforts of my age? They're happy

That end their days contented with a little,

And live aloof from dangers: to a king

Every content doth a new peril bring.

Re-enter the Guard with Leucippus.

Oh let me live no longer! − shame of nature,

Bastard to honor, traitor, murderer,

Devil in a human shape! − Away with him!

He shall not breathe his hot infection here.

Leuc. Sir, hear me.

Leon. Am I or he your duke? − away with him

To a close prison! − your highness now shall know,

Such branches must be cropped before they grow.

Leuc. Whatever fortune comes, I bid it welcome;

My innocency is my armor. Gods preserve you!

[Leucippus exits with the Guard.]

Bacha. Fare thee well!

I shall never see so brave a gentleman:

Would I could weep out his offences!

Tim. Or

I could weep out mine eyes!

Leon. Come, gentlemen.

We'll determine presently about his death:

We cannot be too forward in our safety.

I am very sick; lead me unto my bed.

[Exeunt.]

ACT IV, SCENE III.

A Street.

Enter First Citizen and Boy.

1 Cit. Sirrah, go fetch my fox from the cutler’s: there's

money for the scouring: tell him I stop a groat since the

last great muster, he had in stone-pitch for the bruise he

took with the recoiling of his gun.

Boy. Yes, sir.

1 Cit. And do you hear? when you come, take down my

buckler, and sweep the cobwebs off, and grind the pick

on’t, and fetch a nail or two, and tack on bracers: your

mistress made a pot-lid on't, I thank her, at her maid’s

wedding, and burnt off the handle.

Boy. I will, sir.

[Exit.]

[Knocking at a door.]

1 Cit. Who's within here? Ho, neighbor! not stirring

yet?

Enter Second Citizen.

2 Cit. Oh, good morrow, good morrow: what news,

what news?

1 Cit. It holds, he dies this morning.

2 Cit. Then happy man be his fortune! I am resolved.

1 Cit. And so am I, and forty more good fellows, that

will not give their heads for the washing, I take it.

2 Cit. 'Sfoot, man, who would not hang in such good

company, and such a cause? A fire o’ wife and

children! 'tis such a jest, that men should look behind

'em to the world, and let their honours, their honours,

neighbor, slip.

1 Cit. I'll give thee a pint of bastard and a roll for that

bare word.

2 Cit. They say that we tailors are things that lay one

another, and our geese hatch us: I'll make some of 'em

feel they are geese o' the game then. − [To boy within.]

Jack, take down my bill; 'tis ten to one I use it. – Take a

good heart, man; all the low ward is ours, with a wet

finger. − [To boy within.] And lay my cut-fingered

gauntlet ready for me, that that I used to work in when

the gentleman were up against us, and beaten out of

town, and almost out o' debt too, − for, a plague on 'em!

they never paid well since: and take heed, sirrah, your

mistress hears not of this business, she's near her time;

yet if she do, I care not; she may long for rebellion, for

she has a devilish spirit.

1 Cit. Come, let's call up the new iremonger: he's

as tough as steel, and has a fine wit in these

resurrections, −

[Knocking at another door.]

Are you stirring neighbor?

3 Cit. [Within] Oh, good morrow neighbors; I'll come

to you presently.

2 Cit. Go to, this is his mother’s doing; she's a polecat.

1 Cit. As any is in the world.

2 Cit. Then say I have hit it, and a vengeance on her,

let her be what she will!

1 Cit. Amen, say I: she has brought things to a fine

pass with her wisdom, do you mark it?

2 Cit. One thing I am sure she has, the good old duke;

she gives him pap again, they say, and dandles him, and

hangs a coral and bells about his neck, and makes him

believe his teeth will come again; which if they did,

and I he, I would worry her as never cur was worried, −

I would, neighbor, till my teeth met I know where; but

that's counsel.

Enter Third Citizen.

3 Cit. Good morrow, neighbors: hear you the sad

news?

1 Cit. Yes; would we knew as well how to prevent it!

3 Cit. I cannot tell: methinks, 'twere no great matter, if

men were men: but −

2 Cit. You do not twit me with my calling, neighbor?

3 Cit. No, surely; for I know your spirit to be tall:

pray, be not vexed.

2 Cit. Pray, forward with your counsel. I am what I

am, and they that prove me shall find me to their cost:

do you mark me, neighbor? to their cost, I say.

1 Cit. Nay, look how soon you are angry!

2 Cit. They shall, neighbors; yes, I say they shall.

3 Cit. I do believe they shall.

1 Cit. I know they shall.

2 Cit. Whether you do or no, I care not two pence: I

am no beast; I know mine own strength, neighbors; God

bless the King, your companies is fair.

1 Cit. Nay, neighbor, now ye err; I must tell you so, an

ye were twenty neighbors.

3 Cit. You had best go peach; do, peach.

2 Cit. Peach! I scorn the motion.

3 Cit. Do, and see what follows: I'll spend an hundred

pound (an’t be two, I care not), but I'll undo thee.

2 Cit. Peach! Oh, disgrace! Peach in thy face! and do

the worst thou canst! I am a true man, and a free-man:

peach!

1 Cit. Nay, look, you will spoil all.

2 Cit. Peach!

1 Cit. Whilst you two brawl together, the prince will

lose his life.

3 Cit. Come, give me your hand; I love you well. Are

you for the action?

2 Cit. Yes; but peach provokes me: 'tis a cold fruit; I

feel it cold in my stomach still.

3 Cit. No more: I'll give you cake to digest it.

Enter Fourth Citizen.

4 Cit. [To boy within.] Shut up my shop, and be ready

at a call, boys: and one of you run over my old tuck

with a few ashes ('tis grown odious with toasting

cheese), and burn a little juniper in my murrin, (the

maid made it her chamber-pot); an hour hence I'll come

again; and as you hear from me, send me a clean shirt!

3 Cit. The chandler by the wharf, an it be thy will!

2 Cit. Gossip, good morrow.

4 Cit. Oh, good morrow, gossip, − good morrow, all. I

see ye of one mind, you cleave so close together. Come,

'tis time: I have prepared a hundred, if they stand.

1 Cit. 'Tis well done: shall we sever, and about it?

3 Cit. First, let's to the tavern; and a pint a-piece will

make us dragons.

2 Cit. I will have no mercy, come what will of it.

4 Cit. If my tuck hold, I'll spit the guard like larks with

sage between 'em.

2 Cit. I have a foolish bill to reckon with 'em, will

make some of their hearts ache, and I'll lay it on: now

shall I fight, 'twill do you good to see me.

3 Cit. Come, I'll do something for the town to talk of

when I am rotten: pray God there be enough to kill!

that's all.

[Exeunt.]

ACT IV, SCENE IV.

Before the Palace.

Enter Dorialus, Agenor, and Nisus.

Agen. How black the day begins!

Dor. Can you blame it, and look upon such a deed as

shall be done this morning?

Nisus. Does the prince suffer today?

Dor. Within this hour, they say.

Agen. Well, they that are most wicked are most safe:

'Twill be a strange justice, and a lamentable;

Gods keep us from the too soon feeling of it!

Dor. I care not if my throat were next: for to live still,

and live here, were but to grow fat for the shambles.

Nisus. Yet we must do it, and thank 'em too, that our

lives may be accepted.

Agen. Faith, I'll go starve myself, or grow diseased, to

shame the hangman; for I am sure he shall be my

herald, and quarter me.

Dor. Ay, a plague on him! he's too excellent at arms.

Nisus. Will you go see this sad sight, my Lord Agenor?

Agen. I'll make a mourner.

Dor. If I could do him any good, I would go;

The bare sight else will but afflict my spirit:

My prayers shall be as near him as your eyes.

As you find him settled,

Remember my love and service to his grace.

Nisus. We will weep for you, sir: farewell.

[Exeunt Agenor and Nisus.]

Dor. Farewell:

To all our happiness, a long farewell! −

Thou angry power, whether of Heaven or hell,

Thou lay’st this sharp correction on our kingdom

For our offences, infinite and mighty,

Oh, hear me, and at length be pleased, be pleased

With pity to draw back thy vengeance,

Too heavy for our weakness; and accept,

(Since it is your discretion, heavenly wisdoms,

To have it so) this sacrifice for all,

That now is flying to your happiness,

Only for you most fit; let all our sins

Suffer in him! −

[A shout within.]

Gods, what's the matter? I hope

'Tis joy;

Re-enter Agenor and Nisus.

How now my Lords?

Nisus. I'll tell you with that little breath I have:

More joy than you dare think; the prince is safe

From danger.

Dor. How!

Agen. 'Tis true, and thus it was: his hour was come

To lose his life, he ready for the stroke,

Nobly, and full of saint-like patience,

Went with his guard: which when the people saw,

Compassion first went out, mingled with tears,

That bred desires, and whispers to each other,

To do some worthy kindness for the prince;

And ere they understood well how to do,

Fury stepped in, and taught them what to do,

Thrusting on every hand to rescue him,

As a white innocent: then flew the roar

Through all the streets, of “Save him, save him, save him!”

And as they cried, they did; for catching up

Such sudden weapons as their madness shewed them,

In short, they beat the guard, and took him from 'em,

And now march with him like a royal army.

Dor. Heaven, Heaven I thank thee! What a slave was I

To have my hand so far from this brave rescue!

'T had been a thing to brag on when I was old.

Shall we run for a wager to the next temple,

And give thanks?

Nisus. As fast as wishes.

[Exeunt.]

ACT IV, SCENE V.

A Street.

Enter Leucippus and Ismenus.

Leuc. [To the people within.]

Good friends, go home again, there's not a man

Shall go with me.

Ism. Will you not take revenge?

I'll call them on.

Leuc. All that love me, depart!

I thank you, and will serve you for your loves. −

But I will thank you more to suffer me

To govern 'em. − Once more, I do beg ye,

For my sake to your houses!

All. [within.] Gods preserve you!

Ism. And what house will you go to?

Leuc. Ismenus, I will take the wariest courses

That I can think of to defend myself,

But not offend.

Ism. You may kill your mother,

And never offend your father, an honest man.

Leuc. Thou know'st I can scape now, that's all I look for:

I'll leave.

Ism. Timantus, a pox take him! would I had him here! I

would kill him at his own weapon, single scythes: we

have built enough on him. Plague on't! I'm out of all

patience: discharge such an army as this, that would

have followed you without paying! Oh, gods!

Leuc. To what end should I keep 'em? I am free.

Ism. Yes, free o'th' traitors: for you are proclaimed one.

Leuc. Should I therefore make myself one?

Ism. This is one of your moral philosophy, is it? Heaven

bless me from subtleties to undo myself with! but I

know, if Reason herself were here, she would not part

with her own safety.

Leuc. Well, pardon me, Ismenus; for I know

My courses are most just; nor will I stain 'em

With one bad action. For thyself, thou know'st

That though I may command thee, I shall be

A ready servant to thee, if thou needst:

And so I'll take my leave.

Ism. Of whom?

Leuc. Of thee.

Ism. Heart, you shall take no leave of me.

Leuc. Shall I not?

Ism. No, by the gods shall you not! nay, if you have no

more wit but to go absolutely alone, I'll be in a little.

Leuc. Nay, prithee, good Ismenus, part with me!

Ism. I wo’not i'faith: never move it anymore; for

by this good light, I wo’not!

Leuc. This is an ill time to be thus unruly:

Ismenus, you must leave me.

Ism. Yes, if you can beat me away: else the gods refuse

me if I will leave you till I see more reason! you sha'nt

undo yourself.

Leuc. But why wilt not leave me?

Ism. Why, I'll tell you: because when you are gone, then

− life, if I have not forgot my reason − hell take me!

you put me out of patience so – oh, marry, when you

are gone, then will your mother − a pox confound her!

she never comes in my head but she spoils my memory

too. There are a hundred reasons.

Leuc. But shew me one.

Ism. Shew you! what a stir here is! Why, I will shew

you: do you think − well, well, I know what I know; I

pray, come, come: 'tis in vain: but I am sure − devils

take 'em! what do I meddle with 'em? − you know

yourself − soul, I think I am − is there any man i' the

world − as if you knew not this already better than I!

Pish, pish, I'll give no reason!

Leuc. But I will tell thee one why thou shouldst stay:

I have not one friend in the court but thou,

On whom I may be bold to trust to send me

Any intelligence: and if thou lov'st me

Thou wilt do this: thou need’st not fear to stay;

For there are new-come proclamations out,

Where all are pardoned but myself.

Ism. 'Tis true; and in the same proclamation, your fine

sister Urania, whom you used so kindly, is proclaimed

heir-apparent to the crown.

Leuc. What though? thou mayst stay at home without

danger.

Ism. Danger! hang danger! what tell you me of danger?

Leuc. Why, if thou wilt not do't, I think thou dar'st not.

Ism. I dare not! if you speak it in earnest, you are a

boy.

Leuc. Well, sir, if you dare, let me see you do't.

Ism. Why so you shall; I will stay.

Leuc. Why God-a-mercy!

Ism. You know I love you but too well.

Leuc. Now take these few directións: farewell!

Send to me by the wariest ways thou canst:

I have a soul tells me we shall meet often.

The gods protect thee!

Ism. Pox o' myself for an ass! I'm crying now. God be

with you! if I never see you again, why, then − pray get

you gone; for grief and anger wo’not let me know what

I say. I'll to the court as fast as I can, and see the new

heir-apparant.

[Exeunt severally.]

ACT V.

SCENE I.

An Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Urania in boy’s clothes, and Maid.

Ura. What, hast thou found him?

Wom. Madam, he is coming in.

Ura. Gods bless my brother, wheresoe'er he is!

And I beseech you, keep me fro the bed

Of any naughty tyrant, whom my mother

Would ha’ me have to wrong him!

Enter Ismenus.

Ism. What would her new grace have with me?

Ura. Leave us a while.

[Exit Maid.]

My Lord Ismenus,

I pray, for the love of Heaven and God,

That you would tell me one thing, which I know

You can do weel.

Ism. [Mocking her.] Where's her fain grace?

Ura. You know me weel enough, but that you mock;

I am she my sen.

Ism. God bless him that shall be thy husband! if thou

wearest breeches thus soon, thou'lt be as impudent as

thy mother.

Ura. But will you tell me this one thing?

Ism. What is't? if it be no great matter whether I do or

no, perhaps I will.

Ura. Yes, feth, 'tis matter.

Ism. And what is't?

Ura. I pray you

Let me know whair the prince my brother is.

Ism. I'faith, you shan be hanged first! Is your mother so

foolish to think your good grace can sift it out of me?

Ura. If you have any mercy left i' you

To a poor wench, tell me!

Ism. Why, wouldst not thou have thy brains beat out for

this, to follow thy mother’s steps so young?

Ura. But, believe me, she knows none of this.

Ism. Believe you! Why, do you think I never had wits?

or that I am run out of them? how should it belong to

you to know, if I could tell?

Ura. Why, I will tell you; and if I speak false,

Let the devil ha’ me! Yonder's a bad man,

Come from a tyrant to my mother, and what name

They ha' for him, good feth, I cannot tell.

Ism. An ambassador?

Ura. That's it: but he would carry me away,

And have me marry his master; and I'll day

Ere I will ha' him.

Ism. But what's this to knowing where the prince is?

Ura. Yes; for you know all my mother does

Agen the prince, is but to ma’ me great.

Ism. Pray − I know that too well − what ten?

Ura. Why, I would go to the good marquis my brother,

And put myself into his hands, that so

He may preserve himself.

Ism. Oh, that thou hadst no seed of thy mother in thee,

and couldst mean this now!

Ura. Why, feth, I do;

Would I might never stir more, if I do not!

Ism. I shall prove a ridiculous fool, I'll be damned else:

hang me, if I do not half believe thee.

Ura. By my troth, you may.

Ism. By my troth, I do: I know I'm an ass for't, but I

cannot help it.

Ura. And won you tell me, then?

Ism. Yes, faith, will I, or anything else i' the world; for I

think thou art as good a creature as ever was born.

Ura. But ail go i' this ladst reparrel; But you mun help me

To silver.

Ism. Help thee! Why, the pox take him that will not

help thee to anything i' the world! I'll help thee to

money, and I'll do't presently too: and yet, soul, if you

should play the scurvy, harlotry, little pocky baggage

now, and cozen me, what then?

Ura. Why, an I do, would I might ne'r see day agen!

Ism. Nay, by this light, I do not think thou wilt: I'll

presently provide thee money and a letter.

[Exit Ismenus.]

Ura. Ay, but I'll ne'er deliver it.

When I have found my brother, I will beg

To serve him; but he shall never know who I am:

For he must hate me then for my bad mother:

I'll say I am a country lad that want a service,

And have strayed on him by chance, lest he discover me.

I know I must not live long; but that taime

I ha' to spend, shall be in serving him:

And, though my Mother seek to take his life away,

In ai day my brother shall be taught

That I was ever good, though she were naught.

[Exit.]

ACT V, SCENE II.

Another Apartment in the Palace.

Enter Bacha and Timantus.

Bacha. Run away! the Devil be her guide!

Tim. Faith, she's gone: there's a letter, I found it in her

pocket. −

[Gives letter to Bacha, who reads it.]

[Aside] Would I were with her! she's a handsome lady:

a plague upon my bashfulness! I had bobbed her long

ago else.

Bacha. What a base whore is this, that after all

My ways for her advancement, should so poorly

Make virtue her undoer, and choose this time,

The king being deadly sick, and I intending

A present marriage with some foreign prince,

To strengthen and secure myself! She writes here,

Like a wise gentlewoman, she will not stay;

And the example of her dear brother makes her

Fear herself, to whom she means to fly.

Tim. Why, who can help it?

Bacha. Now poverty and lechery, which is thy end,

Rot thee, where'er thou goest, with all thy goodness!

Tim. By’r lady, they'll bruise her, an she were of brass!

I am sure they'll break stone walls: I have had

experience of them both, and they have made me

desperate. But there's a messenger, madam, come from

the prince with a letter to Ismenus, who by him returns

an answer.

Bacha. This comes as pat as wishes. Thou shalt presently

Away, Timantus.

Tim. Whither, Madam?

Bacha. To the prince; and take the messenger for guide.

Tim. What shall I do there? I have done too much

mischief to be believed again; or, indeed, to scape with

my head on my back, if I be once known.

Bacha. Thou art a weak shallow fool! Get thee a disguise,

And withal, when thou com'st before him, have a letter

Feigned to deliver him: and then, as thou

Hast ever hope of goodness by me or after me,

Strike one home-stroke that shall not need another!

Dar'st thou? speak, dar'st thou? If thou fallest off,

Go, be a rogue again, and lie and pander

To procure thy meat! Dar'st thou? speak to me.

Tim. Sure, I shall never walk when I am dead, I have

no spirit. Madam, I'll be drunk, but I'll do it; that's all

my refuge.

Bacha. Away! no more, then.

[Exit Timantus.]

I'll raise an army whilst the king yet lives,

If all the means and power I have can do it;

I cannot tell.

Enter Ismenus, Dorialus, Agenor and Nisus.

Ism. Are you inventing still? we'll ease your studies.

Bacha. Why, how now, saucy lords?

Ism. Nay, I'll shake you; yes, devil, I will shake you!

Bacha. Do not you know me, lords?

Nisus. Yes, deadly sin, we know you: would we did not!

Ism. Do you hear, whore? a plague o’ God upon thee!

The duke is dead.

Bacha. Dead!

Ism. Ay, wildfire and brimstone take thee! good man,

he is dead, and past those miseries, which thou, salt

infection, like a disease, flungest upon his head. Dost

thou hear? an 'twere not more respect to womanhood in

general than thee, because I had a mother, − who, I will

not say she was good, she lived so near thy time, −

I would have thee, in vengeance of this man,

Whose peace is made in Heavèn by this time,

Tied to a post, and dried i' the sun, and after

Carried about, and shewn at fairs for money,

With a long story of the devil thy father,

That taught thee to be whorish, envious, bloody!

Bacha. Ha, ha, ha!

Ism. You fleering harlot, I'll have a horse to leap thee,

and thy base issue shall carry sumpters. − Come, lords,

bring her along: we'll to the prince all, where her hell-

hood shall wait his censure; − and if he spare thee, she-

goat, may he lie with thee again! and beside, mayst thou

lay upon him some nasty foul disease, that hate still

follows, and his end a dry ditch! Lead, you corrupted

whore, or I'll draw a goad shall make you skip: away to

the prince!

Bacha. Ha ha, ha!

I hope yet I shall come too late to find him.

[Exeunt.]

ACT V, SCENE III.

Temple of Cupid.

Cornets within. Cupid descends.

The time now of my revenge draws near.

Nor shall it lessen, as I am a god,

With all the cries and prayers that have been,

And those that be to come, though they be infinite

In need and number.

[Ascends.]

ACT V, SCENE IV.

A Forest, with a Cave in the background.

Enter Leucippus, and Urania in boy’s clothes.

Leuc. Alas poor boy, why dost thou follow me?

What canst thou hope for? I am poor as thou art.

Ura. In good feth, I shall be weel and rich enough,

If you will love me, and not put me from you.

Leuc. Why dost thou choose out me, boy, to undo thee?

Alas, for pity, take another master,

That may be able to deserve thy love,

In breeding thee hereafter! me thou knowest not

More than my misery; and therefore canst not

Look for rewards at my hands: would I were able,

My pretty knave, to do thee any kindness!

Truly, good boy, I would upon my faith:

Thy harmless innocence moves me at heart.

Wilt thou go save thyself? why dost thou weep?

Alas, I do not chide thee!

Ura. I cannot tell;

If I go from you, sir, I shall ne'er dawn day more:

Pray, if you can − I will be true to you –

Let me wait on you. If I were a man,

I would fight for you:

Sure, you have some ill-willers; I would slay ‘em.

Leuc. Such harmless souls are ever prophets. Well,

I take thy wish, thou shalt be with me still:

But, prithee, eat, then, my good boy: thou wilt die,

My child, if thou fast one day more; this four days

Thou hast tasted nothing: go into the cave,

And eat; thou shalt find something for thee,

To bring thy blood again, and thy fair colour.

Ura. I cannot eat, God thank you! But I'll eat tomorrow.

Leuc. Thou't be dead by that time.

Ura. I should be well then; for you will not love me.

Leuc. Indeed I will. –

This is the prettiest passion that e'er I felt yet! –

Why dost thou look so earnestly upon me?

Ura. You have fair eyes, master.

Leuc. Sure, the boy dotes! –

Why dost thou sigh, my child?

Ura. To think that such

A fine man should live, and no gay lady love him.

Leuc. Thou wilt love me?

Ura. Yes, sure, till I die;

And when I am in Heaven, I'll e'en wish for you.

Leuc. And I'll come to thee, boy. This is a love

I never yet heard tell of. − Come, thou art sleepy, child;

Go in, and I'll sit with thee – Heaven, what portends this?

Ura. You are sad, but I am not sleepy, would I could

Do aught to make you merry! shall I sing?

Leuc. If thou wilt, good boy. Alas, my boy, that thou

Shouldst comfort me, and art far worse than I!

Enter Timantus with a letter, disguised.

Ura. La, master, there's one, look to your sen!

Leuc. What art thou that into this dismal place,

Which nothing could find out but misery,

Thus boldly step’st? Comfort was never here;

Here is no food, nor beds, nor any house

Built by a better architect than beasts;

And ere you get dwelling from one of them,

You must fight for it: if you conquer him,

He is your meat: if not, you must be his.

Tim. I come to you (for, if I not mistake,

You are the prince) from that most noble lord

Ismenus, with a letter.

[Gives letter.]

Ura. [Aside] Alas, I fear

I shall be discovered now!

Leuc. Now I feel

Myself the poorest of all mortal things:

Where is he that receives such courtesies

But he has means to shew his gratefulness

Some way or other? I have none at all;

I know not how to speak so much as well

Of thee, but to these trees.

Tim. His letters speak him, sir −

[While Leucippus opens the letter,

Timantus runs at him;

Urania rushes between, and receives the wound.]

Ura. Gods keep him but from knowing me till I die!

Aye me, sure, I cannot live a day! –

Oh, thou foul traitor! − how do you, master?

Leuc. How dost thou, my child? − Alas, look on this!

It may make thee repentant, to behold

Those innocent drops that thou hast drawn from thence.

Ura. 'Tis nothing, sir, an you be well.

Tim. Oh, pardon me!

[Timantus kneels and discovers himself.]

Know you me now, sir?

Leuc. How couldst thou find me out?

Tim. We intercepted

A letter from Ismenus, and the bearer

Directed me.

Leuc. Stand up, Timantus, boldly.

[Timantus rises.]

The world conceives that thou art guilty

Of divers treasons to the state and me:

But, oh, far be it from the innocence

Of a just man, to give a traitor death

Without a trial! here thy country is not

To purge thee or condemn thee; therefore

(A nobler trial than thou dost deserve,

Rather than none at all,) here I accuse thee,

Before the face of Heaven, to be a traitor

Both to the duke my father and to me,

And the whole land. Speak; is it so, or no?

Tim. 'Tis true sir; pardon me!

Leuc. Take heed, Timantus,

How thou dost cast away thyself; I must

Proceed to execution hastily

If thou confess it. Speak once again; is’t so, or no?

Tim. I am not guilty, sir.

Leuc. God’s and thy sword

Acquit thee! here it is.

[The prince gets and delivers Timantus his sword.]

Tim. I will not use

Any violence against your highness.

Leuc. At thy peril then!

For this must be thy trial; and from henceforth

Look to thyself!

Tim. I do beseech you, sir,

Let me not fight.

[Timantus kneels.]

Leuc. Up, up again, Timantus!

[Timantus rises.]

There is no way but this, believe me. Now if –

[As Leucippus turns aside, Timantus runs at him.]

Fie, fie, Timantus! is there no usage can

Recover thee from baseness? wert thou longer

To converse with men, I would have chid thee for this.

Be all thy faults forgiven!

[They fight; Timantus falls.]

Tim. Oh spare me, sir! I am not fit for death.

Leuc. I think thou art not; yet trust me, fitter than

For life. Yet tell me, ere thy breath be gone,

Knowest of any other plots against me?

Tim. Of none.

Leuc. What course wouldst thou have taken, when thou
hadst killed me?

Tim. I would have ta'en your page, and married her.

Leuc. What page?

Tim. Your boy there −

[Timantus dies.]

Leuc. Is he fall'n mad in death? what does he mean?

[Urania swoons.]

Some good god help me at the worst! − how dost thou?

Let not thy misery vex me; thou shalt have

What thy poor heart can wish: I am a prince,

And I will keep thee in the gayest clothes,

And the finest things that ever pretty boy

Had given him.

Ura. I know you well enough;

Feth, I am dying; and now you know all too.

Leuc. But stir up thyself; look what a jewel here is,

See how it glisters! what a pretty show

Will this make in thy little ear! ha, speak!

Eat but a bit, and take it.

Ura. Do you not know me?

Leuc. I prithee, mind thy health: why, that's well said

My good boy, smile still.

Ura. I shall smile till death,

An I see you. I am Urania,

Your sister-in-law.

Leuc. How!

Ura. I am Urania.

Leuc. Dulness did seize me; now I know thee well;

Alas, why cam'st thou hither?

Ura. Feth, for love,

I would not let you know till I was dying;

For you could not love me, my mother was so naught.

[Urania dies.]

Leuc. I will love thee, or anything! what, wilt thou

Leave me as soon as I know thee? speak one word to me! –

Alas, she's past it! she will ne'er speak more. −

What noise is that? it is no matter who

Comes on me now.

Enter Ismenus, Dorialus, Agenor and Nisus,

bringing in Bacha.

What worse than mad are you

That seek out sorrows? if you love delights,

Begone from hence!

Ism. Sir, for you we come,

As soldiers, to revenge the wrongs you have suffered

Under this naughty creature: what shall be done with her?

Say; I am ready.

Leuc. Leave her to Heaven, brave cousin;

They shall tell her how she has sinned against 'em:

My hand shall never be stained with such base blood. –

Live, wicked mother: that reverend title be

Your pardon! for I will use no extremity

Against you, but leave you to Heaven.

Bacha. Hell take you all! or, if there be a place

Of torment that exceeds that, get you thither!

And, till the devils have you, may your lives

Be one continued plague, and such a one

That knows no friends nor ending! may all ages

That shall succeed curse you, as I do! And,

If it be possible, I ask it Heaven,

That your base issues may be ever monsters,

That must, for shame of nature and succession,

Be drowned like dogs! Would I had breath to poison you!

Leuc. Would you had love within you and such grief

As might become a mother! Look you there!

Know you that face? that was Urania:

These are the fruits of those unhappy mothers

That labour with such horrid births as you do:

If you can weep, there's cause; poor innocent,

Your wickedness has killed her; I'll weep for you.

Ism. Monstrous woman! Mars would weep at this,

And yet she cannot.

Leuc. Here lies your minion too, slain by my hand:

I will not say you are the cause; yet certain,

I know you were to blame: the gods forgive you!

Ism. See, she stands as if she were inventing

Some new destruction for the world.

Leuc. Ismenus,

Thou art welcome yet to my sad company.

Ism. I come to make you somewhat sadder, sir.

Leuc. You cannot; I am at the height already.

Ism. Your father’s dead.

Leuc. I thought so; Heaven be with him! –

Oh woman, woman, weep now or never! thou

Hast made more sorrows than we have eyes to utter.

Bacha. Now let Heaven fall! I am at the worst of evils;

A thing so miserably wretched, that everything,

The last of human comforts, hath left me!

I will not be so base and cold to live,

And wait the mercies of these men I hate:

No, 'tis just I die, since Fortune hath left me.

My steep descent attends me. Hand, strike thou home!

I have soul enough to guide; and let all know,

As I [have] stood a queen, the same I will fall,

And one with me!

[She stabs Leucippus with a knife, then herself.]

Leuc. Oh!

Ism. How do you, sir?

Leuc. Nearer my health than I think any here:

My tongue begins to falter. What is man!

Or who would be one, when he sees a poor

Weak woman can in an instant make him none!

Dor. She is dead already.

Ism. Let her be damned already, as she is!

Post all for surgeons!

Leuc. Let not a man stir; for I am but dead.

I have some few words which I would have you hear,

And am afraid I shall want breath to speak 'em.

First to you, my lords: you know Ismenus is

Undoubted heir of Lycia; I do beseech you all,

When I am dead, to shew your duties to him.

Lords together. We vow to do't.

Leuc. I thank you. − Next to you,

Cousin Ismenus, that shall be the duke:

I pray you let the broken images

Of Cupid be re-edified; I know

All this is done by him.

Ism. It shall be so.

Leuc. Last, I beseech you that my mother-in-law

May have a burial according to −

[Dies.]

Ism. To what, sir?

Dor. There is a full point!

Ism. I will interpret for him: she shall have

Burial according to her own deserts,

With dogs.

Dor. I would your majesty would haste

For settling of the people.

Ism. I am ready. −

Agenor, go, and let the trumpets sound

Some mournful thing, whilst we convey the body

Of this unhappy prince unto the court,

And of that virtuous virgin to a grave;

But drag her to a ditch, where let her lie,

Accurst whilst one man has a memory!

[Exeunt.]

FINIS