Aymer. Admirably, admirably; oh, sweet lord! assuredly it is pity the worms should eat thee.

Page. Here is a fine cell! a lord, a taylor, a perfumer, a barber, and a pair of monsieurs : Three to three, as little wit in the one, as honesty in the other. S'foot, I'll into the country again, learn to speak truth, drink ale, and converse with my father's tenants: here I hear nothing all day, but-upon my soul! as I am a gentleman, and an honest man!

Aymer. I vow and affirm, your taylor must needs be an expert geometrician; he has the longitude, latitude, altitude, profundity, every dimension of your body, so exquisitely-Here is a lace laid as directly, as if truth were a taylor.

Page. That were a miracle.

Lilad. With a hair's breadth's error, there is a shoulder-piece cut, and the base of a pickadille in puncto.

Aymer. You are right, monsieur, his vestments sit as if they grew upon him; or art had wrought them on the same loom, as nature framed his lordship; as if your taylor were deeply read in astrology, and had taken measure of your honourable body, with a Jacob's staff, an ephimerides.

Tayl. I am bound to ye, gentlemen!

Page. You are deceived; they will be bound to you: You must remember to trust them none. Nov. jun. Nay, 'faith, thou art a reasonable, neat artificer, give the devil his due.

Page. Aye, if he would but cut the coat according to the cloth still.

Nov. jun. I now want only my mistress's approbation, who is, indeed, the most polite punctual queen of dressing in all Burgundy-pah! and makes all other young ladies appear as if they came from board last week out of the country. Is it not true, Liladam?

Lilad. True, my lord! as if any thing your lordship could say, could be otherwise than true.

Nor. jun. Nay, o' my soul, it is so; what fouler object in the world, than to see a young, fair, handsome beauty, unhandsomely dighted, and incongruently accoutered; or a hopeful chevalier, unmethodically appointed, in the external ornaments of nature? For, even as the index tells us the contents of stories, and directs to the particular chapters, even so does the outward habit and superficial order of garments (in man or woman,) give us a taste of the spirit, and demonstratively point (as it were a manual note from the margin) all the internal quality and habiliment of the soul; and there cannot be a more evident, palpable, gross manifestation of poor, degenerate, dunghilly blood and breeding, than arude, unpolished, disordered, and slovenly outside. Page. An admirable lecture! ah, all you gallants, that hope to be saved by your clothes, edify, edify!

Aymer. By the lard, sweet lard! thou deservest a pension of the state.

Page. O' the taylors; two such lords were able to spread taylors over the face of a whole kingdom.

world, not I.

Wedlock? No, padlock; horse-lock; I wear spurs (He capers.

To keep it off my heels. Yet, my Aymer,
Like a free, wanton jennet in the meadows,
I look about, and neigh, take hedge and ditch,
Feed in my neighbour's pastures; pick my choice
Of all their fair-maned mares: But, married once,
A man is staked or poun'd, and cannot graze
Beyond his own hedge.

Enter PONTALIER and MALOTIN.
Pont. I have waited, sir,

Three hours to speak with you, and take it not well,

Such magpies are admitted, whilst I dance
Attendance.

Lilad. Magpies! What do ye take me for? Pont. A long thing, with a most unpromising face.

Aymer. I'll never ask him what he takes me for.

Litad. Aymer. Humph

Pont. I prythee, cure him of them.
Nov. jun. Pish! no more;

Thy gall sure is overflown: These are my council,
And we were now in serious discourse.

Pont. Of perfume and apparel! Can you rise, And spend five hours in dressing-talk with these? Nov. jun. Thou'dst have me be a dog: Up, stretch, and shake, And ready for all day.

Pont. Sir, would you be More curious in preserving of your honour Trim, it were more manly. I am come to wake Your reputation from this lethargy You let it sleep in; to persuade, importune, Nay, to provoke you, sir, to call to account This colonel Romont, for the foul wrong, Which, like a burden, he hath laid on you, And, like a drunken porter, you sleep under. 'Tis all the town talks; and, believe it, sir, If your tough sense persist thus, you are undone, Utterly lost; you will be scorned and baffled By every lacquey: season now your youth

With one brave thing, and it shall keep the odour Even to your death, beyond, and on your tomb, Scent like sweet oils and frankincense. Sir, this life,

Which once you saved, I ne'er since counted mine;

I borrowed it of you, and now will pay it:
I tender you the service of my sword

To bear your challenge; if you'll write, your fate
I'll make mine own; whate'er betide you, I,
That have lived by you, by your side will die.
Nov. jun. Ha! ha! wouldst have me challenge
poor Romont?-

Fight with close breeches, thou may'st think I dare not:

Do not mistake me, coz, I'm very valiant;
But valour shall not make me such an ass.
What use is there of valour now-a-days?
'Tis sure, or to be killed, or to be hanged,
Fight thou as thy mind moves thee, 'tis thy trade;
Thou hast nothing else to do. Fight with Romont
No, I'll not fight under a lord."

Pont. Farewell, sir! I pity you.

Such living lords walk their dead honour's graves, For no companions fit, but fools and knaves. Come, Malotin.

[Exeunt PONTALIER and MALOTIN.

Rom. By your leave, sirs!
Aymer. Are you a consort?
Rom. Do you take me for

A fiddler? you are deceived: Look! I'll pay you. [Kicks them. Page. It seems he knows you one, he bumfiddles you so.

Lilad. Was there ever so base a fellow?
Aymer. A rascal.

Lilad. A most uncivil groom. Aymer. Offer to kick a gentleman in a nobleman's chamber! A pox of your manners!

Lilad. Let him alone, let him alone: thou shalt lose thy aim, fellow; if we stir against thee, hang us.

Page. 'Sfoot, I think they have the better on him, though they be kicked, they talk so.

Lilad. Let us leave the mad ape. [Going. Nov. jun. Gentlemen!

Lilad. Nay, my lord! we will not offer to dishonour you so much as to stay by you, since he's alone.

Nov. jun. What mean you, sir? My people! Rom. Your boy is gone,

[Locks the door. And your door's locked, yet for no hurt to you, But privacy. Call up your blood again :-Be not afraid, I do beseech you, sir;

And therefore come, without more circumstance,
Tell me how far the passages have gone
'Twixt you and your fair mistress, Beaumelle.
Tell me the truth, and, by my hope of heaven,
It never shall go farther.

Nov. jun. Tell you! Why, sir,
Are you my confessor?

not.

Rom. I will be your confounder, if you do [Draws a pocket dagger. Stir not, nor spend your voice. Nov. jun. What will you do?

Rom. Nothing but line your brain-pan, sir, with lead,

If you not satisfy me suddenly.

I am desperate of my life, and command yours. Nov. jun. Hold! hold! I'll speak. I vow to Heaven and you,

She's yet untouched, more than her face and hands.

I cannot call her innocent; for, I yield,
On my solicitous wooing she consented,
Where time and place met opportunity,
To grant me all requests.

Rom. But, may I build
On this assurance?

Nov. jun. As upon your faith.
Rom. Write this, sir! nay, you must.
[Draws inkhorn and paper,
Nov. jun. Pox of this gun!

Rom. Withall, sir, you must swear, and put

your oath

Under your hand, (shake not,) ne'er to frequent
This lady's company; nor ever send
Token, or message, or letter, to incline
This, too much prone already, yielding lady.
Nov. jun. 'Tis done, sir.

Rom. Let me see this first is right:
And here you wish a sudden death may light
Upon your body, and hell take your soul,
If ever more you see her but by chance,
Much less allure her. Now, my lord, your
Nov. jun. My hand to this!

Rom. Your heart else, I assure you.
Nov. jun. Nay, there 'tis.

hand,

Rom. So, keep this last article Of your faith given, and 'stead of threatenings, sir, The service of my sword and life is yours. But not a word of it:-'tis fairies' treasure, Which, but revealed, brings on the blabber's ruin. Use your youth better, and this excellent form Heaven hath bestow'd upon you. So, good mor row to your lordship. Nov. jun. Good devil to your rogueship! No

man's safe

I'll have a cannon planted in my chamber Against such roaring rogues.

Enter BELLAPERT hastily. Bella. My lord, away !

[Erit.

So long as he continues in the bounds
Prescribed by friendship; but, when he usurps
Too far on what is proper to myself,
And puts the habit of a governor on,
I must and will preserve my liberty.

But speak of something else; this is a theme
I take no pleasure in. What's this Aymer?
Whose voice for song, and excellent knowledge in
The chiefest parts of music, you bestow
Such praises on?

Beaum. He is a gentleman,

(For so his quality speaks him) well received Among our greatest gallants; but yet holds

His main dependence from the young lord Novall.

Some tricks and crotchets he has in his head,
As all musicians have, and more of him

I dare not author: But, when you have heard him,
I may presume your lordship so will like him,
That you'll hereafter be a friend to music.

Char. I never was an enemy to it, Beaumont; Nor yet do I subscribe to the opinion

Of those old captains, that thought nothing musical,

But cries of yielding enemies, neighing of horses, Clashing of armour, loud shouts, drums and trumpets:

Nor, on the other side, in favour of it,
Affirm the world was made by musical discord,
Or that the happiness of our life consists
In a well-varied note upon the lute:

I love it to the worth of it, and no farther.-
But let us see this wonder.

Beaum. He prevents my calling of him.

Enter AYMER, speaking to one within.
Aymer. Let the coach be brought

To the back gate, and serve the banquet up-
My good lord Charalois! I think my house
Much honoured in your presence.

Char. To have means

To know you better, sir, has brought me hither, A willing visitant; and you'll crown my welcome

Will to your ears convey the harmony With more delight.

Char. I'll not contend.

Aymer. You are tedious. [To the Musicians. By this means shall I with one banquet please Two companies, those within, and these gulls here. [Music and a song.

Citizens' Song of the Courtier.
Courtier, if thou needs wilt wive,
From this lesson learn to thrive ;
If thou match a lady, that
Passes thee in birth and state,
Let her curious garments be
Twice above thine own degree;
This will draw great eyes upon her,
Get her servants, and thee honour.

Beaumel. within. Ha! ha! ha!

Char. How's this! It is my lady's laugh, most certain.

When I first pleased her, in this merry language. She gave me thanks.

Beaum. How like you this?

Char. 'Tis rare

[Aside.

Are the true children of my grief, And not a woman's cunning.

Char. Can you, Beaumelle,

Having deceived so great a trust as mine,
Though I were all credulity, hope again
To get belief? No, no; if you look on me
With pity, or dare practise any means
To make my sufferings less, or give just cause
To all the world to think what I must do
Was called upon by you, use other ways:
Deny what I have seen, or justify

What you have done; and, as you desperately
Made shipwreck of your faith, to be a whore,
Use the arms of such a one, and such defence,
And multiply the sin with impudence.
Stand boldly up, and tell me to my teeth,
That you have done but what is warranted
By great examples, in all places where
Women inhabit; urge your own deserts,
Or want in me of merit; tell me how
Your dower, from the low gulf of poverty,
Weighed up my fortunes to what they now are:
That I was purchased by your choice and prac-
tice

To shelter you from shame, that you might sin
As boldly as securely; that poor men
Are married to those wives that bring them
wealth,

One day their husbands, but observers ever.
That when, by this proud usage, you have blown
The fire of my just vengeance to the height,
I then may kill you, and yet say, 'twas done
In heat of blood, and after die myself,
To witness my repentance.

Beaumel. O my fate!

That never would consent that I should see
How worthy you were both of love and duty,
Before I lost you; and my misery made
The glass, in which I now behold your virtue!
While I was good I was a part of you,
And of two, by the virtuous harmony

Of our fair minds, made one; but, since I wandered

In the forbidden labyrinth of lust,
What was inseparable is by me divided.
With justice, therefore, you may cut me off,
And from your memory wash the remembrance
That e'er I was; like to some vicious purpose,
Which, in your better judgment, you'repent of,
And study to forget.

Char. O Beaumelle !

O, sir, most welcome! Let me take your cloak,
I must not be denied.-Here are your robes;
As you love justice, once more put them on.
There is a cause to be determined of,
That does require such an integrity
As you have ever used.-I'll put you to
The trial of your constancy and goodness;
And look that you, that have been eagle-eyed
In other men's affairs, prove not a mole
In what concerns yourself. Take you your seat;
I will before you presently.
[Exit.

Roch. Angels guard me!

To what strange tragedy does this induction
Serve for a prologue?

Enter CHARALOIS, BEAUMELLE, and BEAU-
MONT, with Servants bearing the body of No-
VALL junior.

Char. So, set it down before

The judgment seat,-[Exeunt Servants.] and stand you at the bar:

For me, I am the accuser.

Roch. Novall slain!

And Beaumelle, my daughter, in the place
Of one to be arraigned!

Char. O, are you touched?

I find that I must take another course.

[He hoodwinks ROCHFORT. Fear nothing; I will only blind your eyes, For justice should do so, when 'tis to meet An object, that may sway her equal doom From what it should be aimed at. Good my lord, A day of hearing.

Roch. It is granted, speak-You shall have justice.

Char. I then here accuse,

Most equal judge, the prisoner, your fair daughter
For whom I owed so much to you; your daughter,
So worthy in her own parts, and that worth
Set forth by yours, (to whose so rare perfections,
Truth witness with me, in the place of service,
I almost paid idolatrous sacrifice,)
To be a false adultress.

Roch. With whom?

Char. With this Novall, here dead.
Roch. Be well advised,

And, ere you say adulteress again,
Her fame depending on it; be most sure
That she is one.

Char. I took them in the act:

I know no proof beyond it.
Roch. O my heart!

Char. A judge should feel no passions.
Roch. Yet, remember

He is a man, and cannot put off nature.
What answer makes the prisoner?

Beaumel. I confess