2 Cred. Yes, faith, sir; we would be very glad To please you either way. 1 Cred. You are ne'er content, Crying nor laughing. Rom. Both with a birth, ye rogues? 2 Cred. Our wives, sir, taught us. Rom. Look, look, you slaves! your thankless cruelty, And savage manners of unkind Dijon, Exhaust these floods, and not his father's death. 1 Cred. 'Slid, sir! what would you, you're so cholerick! 2 Cred. Most soldiers are so, 'faith.-Let him alone. They've little else to live on; we have not had A penny of him, have we? 3 Cred. 'Slight, would you have our hearts? 1 Cred. We have nothing but his body here in durance, For all our money. Priest. On. Char. One moment more, But to bestow a few poor legacies, Wounded and hacked ye were, but never felled. 1 Cred. No further; look to them at your own peril. 2 Cred. No, as they please: Their master's a good man. I would they were at the Bermudas! The prison limits you, and the creditors Rom. Out, you wolfish mongrels! Lest your infection poison a whole town. Char. They grudge our sorrow. Your ill wills perforce, Turn now to charity: They would not have us SCENE II-A Room in Rochfort's House. Enter BEAUMELLE, FLORIMEL, and BELLAPERT. Beaumel. I prithee tell me, Florimel, why do you women marry? Flor. Why truly, madam, I think, to lie with their husbands. Bella. You are a fool. She lies, madam; wo men marry their husbands, to lie with other men. Flor. 'Faith, even such a woman wilt thou make. By this light, madam, this wagtail will spoil you, if you take delight in her licence. Beaumel. 'Tis true, Florimel; and thou wilt make me too good for a young lady. What an electuary found my father out for his daughter, when he compounded you two my women! For thou, Florimel, art even a grain too heavy, simply, for a waiting-gentlewoman— Flor. And thou, Bellapert, a grain too light. Bella. Well, go thy ways, goody wisdom, whom nobody regards. I wonder whether be elder, thou or thy hood? You think, because you served my lady's mother, are thirty-two years old, which is a pip out, you know— Flor. Well said, whirligig. Bella. You are deceived: I want a peg in the middle. Out of these prerogatives, you think to be mother of the maids here, and mortify them with proverbs: go, go, govern the sweetmeats, and weigh the sugar, that the wenches steal none; say your prayers twice a day, and, as I take it, you have performed your functions. Flor. I may be even with you. Bella. Hark! the court's broke up; go help my old lord out of his caroch, and scratch his head till dinner-time, Flor. Well. [Exit. Bella. Fie, madam, how you walk! By my maiden-head, you look seven years older than you did this morning. Why there can be nothing under the sun valuable to make you thus a minute. Beaumel. Ah, my sweet Bellapert, thou cabinet To all my counsels, thou dost know the cause That makes thy lady wither thus in youth. Bella. Uds-light! enjoy your wishes: whilst I live, One way or other you shall crown your will. Beaumel. But there is honour, wench. There is indeed, for which ere I would die. Beaum. Prithee, distinguish me a maid and wife. Bella. 'Faith, madam, one may bear any man's children, t'other must bear no man's. Beaumel. What is a husband? Bella. Physick, that, tumbling in your belly, will make you sick in the stomach. The only distinction betwixt a husband and a servant is, the first will lie with you when he pleases; the last shall lie with you when you please. Pray tell me, lady, do you love, to marry after, or would you marry, to love after? Beaumel. I would meet love and marriage both at once. Bella. Why then you are out of the fashion, and will be contemned: for I will assure you, there are few women in the world, but either they have married first, and loved after; or love first, and married after. You must do as you may, not as you would; your father's will is the goal you must fly to. If a husband approach you, you would have further off, is he you love, the less near you? A husband in these days is but a cloak, to be oftener laid upon your bed, than in your bed. Beaumel. Hum! Bella. Sometimes you may wear him on your shoulders; now and then under your arm; but seldom or never let him cover you, for 'tis not the fashion. Enter NOVALL junior, PONTALIER, MALOTIN, LILADAM, and AYMER. Nov. jun. Best day to nature's curiosity, Star of Dijon, the lustre of all France! Perpetual spring dwell on thy rosy cheeks, Whose breath is perfume to our continent!See! Flora trimmed in her varieties. Bella. Oh, divine lord! Nov. jun. No autumn nor no age ever approach This heavenly piece, which nature having wrought, She lost her needle, and did then despair Ever to work so lively and so fair! Lilad. Uds-light, my lord, one of the purls of your band Is, without all discipline, fallen out of his rank. Nov. jun. How? I would not for a thousand crowns she had seen it. Dear Liladam, reform it. Bella. Oh, lord per se, lord! Quintessence of honour! she walks not under a weed that could deny thee any thing. Beaumel. Prythee peace, wench! thou dost but blow the fire, That flames too much already. [LILADAM and AYMER trim NOVAll, whilst BELLAPERT her lady. Aymer. By gad, my lord, you have the divinest | taylor in Christendom; he hath made you look like an angel in your cloth-of-tissue doublet. Pont. This is a three-legged lord; there is a fresh assault. Oh! that men should spend time thus!-See, see how her blood drives to her heart, and strait vaults to her cheeks again! Malot. What are these? Pont. One of them there, the lower, is a good, foolish, knavish, sociable gallimaufry of a man, and has much caught my lord with singing; he is master of a music house. The other is his dressing block, upon whom my lord lays all his cloaths and fashions, ere he vouchsafes them his own person; you shall see him in the morning in the galley-foist, at noon in the bullion, in the evening in Quirpo, and all night in— Malot. A bawdy-house. Pont. If my lord deny, they deny; if he affirm, they affirm: They skip into my lord's cast skins some twice a year; and thus they flatter to eat, eat to live, and live to praise my lord. Malot. Good sir, tell me one thing. Malot. Dare these men ever fight on any cause? Pont. Oh, no, 'twould spoil their clothes, and put their bands out of order. Nov. jun. Mistress, you hear the news? Your father has resigned his presidentship to my lord my father. Malot. And lord Charalois undone for ever. A braver hope of so assured a father Lilad. A good dumb mourner. Nov. jun. Oh, fie upon him, how he wears his clothes! To warm thy blood, thou dost so vainly spend, Than I can be of all the bellowing mouths That calls the spirits to a further bliss? After the song, enter ROCHFORT and BEAUMONT. Nov. jun. My honourable lord! Roch. My lord Novall! this is a virtue in you, Roch. 'Tis well and courtly;-you must give I have some private conference with my daughter; Nov. jun. Good morn unto your lordship; [To BEAUMELLE. [Exeunt all but ROCHFORT and BEAUMELLE. Beaumel. Perform I must. Roch. Why how now, Beaumelle? thou look'st not well. Thou art sad of late;-come cheer thee, I have found A wholesome remedy for these maiden fits; Fate hath wronged love, and will destroy me too. Enter ROMONT and Jailor. Rom. Sent you for me, sir? Rom. Your lordship's pleasure? Roch. Keeper, this prisoner I will see forth- Upon my word:-Sit down, good colonel. Why I did wish you hither, noble sír, Rom. Reverend sir, I have observed you, and do know you well; That wait upon him to pronounce the censure, Snuffs other's titles, lordships, offices, Roch. Sir. Rom. My lord, I am not stubborn: I can melt, you see, And prize a virtue better than my life: Roch. Oh! be temperate. Sir, though I would persuade, I'll not constrain; Beaum. These men, sir, wait without; my Roch. Pay them those sums upon the table; take otherwise. No man but has or must bury a father. Roch. They do not. Char. In the manner Of dying, sir, they do not; but all die, Roch. Sweet and gentle nature! Roch. What? Char. Nothing, my lord. Roch. Nothing is quickly granted. That nothing granted is even all I have, Char. Nay, surely, I, that can I see in you, so much resembling his, Char. How ill, sir, it becomes those hairs to mock! Roch, Mock ! thunder strike me then. Char. You do amaze me: But you shall wonder too. I will not take One single piece of this great heap. Why should I Enter ROMONT, BEAUMONT, and Creditors loaded with money, Roch. Here is your friend, Enfranchised ere you spake. I give him to you: Are taken off. Char. How ? Rom. Sir, it is most true. I am the witness. 1 Cred. Yes, faith, we are paid. 2 Cred. Heaven bless his lordship! I did think him wiser. 3 Cred. He a statesman! He an ass. Pay other men's debts? 1 Cred. That he was never bound for. Rom. One more such Would save the rest of pleaders. Char. Honoured Rochfort Lie still my tongue, and blushes scald my cheeks, That offer thanks in words for such great deeds. Roch. Call in my daughter: still I have a suit to you, [Brit BEAUMONT. Would you requite me. Rom. With his life, I assure you. Roch. Nay, would you make me now your Re-enter BEAUMONT, with BEAUMELLE. Char. Is this the payment, sir, that you expect? Rom. Sure I sleep not. Roch. Your sentence-life or death. Enter NovALL jun. PONTALIER, MALOTIN, Char. You need not question me if I can you : You are the fairest virgin in Dijon, And Rochfort is your father. Nov. jun. What's this change? Roch. You meet my wishes, gentlemen. These dogs in doublets here? Char. Then thus, fair Beaumelle, I write my faith, And let these tears, an emblem of our loves, Flow into one another; make one source, Pont. One word, my lord Novall! Nov. jun. What, thou wouldst money?-there! Pont. No, I'll none, I'll not be bought a slave, A pander, or a parasite, for all Your father's worth. Though you have saved my life, Rescued me often from my wants, I must not Good cousin Pontalier, meddle with that Pont. No more but scorn? Move on then, stars, work your pernicious will: Only the wise rule, and prevent your ill. [Erit. Hautboys.-Here a passage over the stage, while the act is playing for the marriage of CHARA LOIS with BEAUMELLE, &c. ACT III. Bella. I will, Relish and taste, and make the banquet easy. The best part of my old lord's state-still better. point at The sport direct, where not alone the lover Which word expounded to you, such a courtesy Nov. jun. But he tasted The first sweets, Bellapert. Bell. He wrong'd you shrewdly ! He toil'd to climb up to the phoenix' nest, I do not know, you that are perfect criticks In woman's books, may talk of maidenheads- 'Gainst all arrests of fear or shame for ever Q |