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Of his love's high-priz'd gem of chastity:

Serv. man. I pray you, let's crave your name,

That which so many years himself hath staid for? sir; I may else have anger.
How often hath he, as he lay in bed,
Sweetly discours'd to me of his Maria?
And with what pleasing passions did he suffer
Love's gentle war-siege? Then he would relate
How he first came unto her fair eyes view;
How long it was ere she could brook affection;
And then how constant she did still abide.
I then, at this, would joy, as if my breast
Had sympathiz'd in equal happiness
With my true friend: but now, when joy should
Who, but a damnn'd one, would have done like

Alb. You may say, one Albert, riding by this
way, only inquir'd their health.
Serv. man. I will acquaint so much.

me?

[be,

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[Exit Serving-man.

Alb. How like a poisonous doctor have I come,
To inquire their welfare, knowing that myself
Have given the potion of their ne'er recovery;
For which I will afflict myself with torture ever.
And, since the earth yields not a remedy
Able to salve the sores my lust hath made,
I'll now take farewel of society,

And th' abode of men, to entertain a life
Fitting my fellowship, in desert woods,
Where beasts like me consort; there may I live,
Far off from wronging virtuous Carracus.
There's no Maria, that shall satisfy

My hateful lust: the trees shall shelter
This wretched trunk of mine, upon whose barks
I will engrave the story of my sin.

And there this short breath of mortality
I'll finish up in that repentant state,
Where not th' allurements of earth's vanities
Can e'er o'ertake me: there's no baits for lust,
No friend to ruin; I shall then be free
From practising the art of treachery :
Thither then, steps, where such content abides,
Where penitency not disturb'd may grieve,
Where on each tree, and springing plant, I'll

carve

This heavy motto of my misery,

Who but a damn'd one could have done like me? Carracus, farewel, if e'er thou seest me more, | Shalt find me curing of a soul-sick sore. [Exit.

ACTUS TERTIUS.

Enter CARRACUS, driving his man before him.
Car. Why, thou base villain! was my dearest
friend here, and could'st not make him stay?
Serv. 'Sfoot, sir, I could not force him against
his will, an' he had been a woman.
Car. Hence, thou untutor'd slave!

[Exit Servant.

But could'st thou, Albert, come so near my door,
And not vouchsafe the comfort of thy presence?
Hath my good fortune caus'd thee to repine?
And, seeing my state so full replete with good,
Canst thou withdraw thy love, to lessen it?
What could so move thee? was't because I mar-
ried?

Did'st thou imagine I infring'd my faith,
For that a woman did participate
In equal share with thee? cannot my friendship
Be firm to thee, because 'tis dear to her?
Yet no more dear to her than firm to thee.
Believe me, Albert, thou do'st little think
How much thy absence gives cause of discontent.
But I'll impute it only to neglect:

VOL. III.

It is neglect, indeed, when friends neglect
The sight of friends, and say 'tis troublesome.
Only ask how they do, and so farewel;
Shewing an outward kind of seeming duty,
Which in the rules of manhood is observ'd,
And think full well they have perform'd their
task,

When of their friend's health they do only ask;
Not caring how they are, or how distrest,
It is enough they have their loves exprest
In bare inquiry; and, in these times too,
Friendship's so cold, that few so much will do.
And am not I beholden then to Albert?
He, after knowledge of our being well,
Said he was truly glad on't: O rare friend!
If he be unkind, how many more may mend?
But whether am I carried by unkindness?
Why should not I as well set light by friend-

ship,

Since I have seen a man, whom I late thought
Had been compos'd of nothing but of faith,
Prove so regardless of his friend's content?

H.

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He'll soon remember his accustom'd friendship.
He thinks, as yet, peradventure, that his presence
Will but offend, for that our marriage rites
Are but so newly past.

Car. I will surmise so too, and only think Some serious business hinders Albert's presence. But what ring's that, Maria, on your finger? Mar. 'Tis one you lost, love, when I did bestow

A jewel of far greater worth on you.
Car. At what time, fairest?

Mar. As if you knew not; why d'ye make't so strange?

Car. You are dispos'd to riddle; pray let's

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you,

If you seem so forgetful. I took it up

Then when you left my lodge, and went away,
Glad of your conquest, for to seek your friend.
Why stand you so amaz'd, sir? I hope that
kindness,

Which then you reap'd, doth not prevail
So in your thoughts, as that you think me light.
Car. O think thyself, Maria, what thou art!
This is the ring of Albert, treacherous man!
He that enjoy'd thy virgin chastity.

I never did ascend into thy chamber,
But all that cold night, thro' the frozen field,
Went seeking of that wretch, who ne'er sought

me;

But found what his lust sought for, dearest thee. Mar. I have heard enough, my Carracus, to bereave me of this little breath.

[She swoons. Car. All breath be first extinguish'd :-within there, ho!

Enter Nurse and Servants.

O nurse! see here, Maria says she'll die.

Nurse. Marry, God forbid! oh mistress, mistress, mistress! she has breath yet; she's but in a trance: good sir, take comfort, she'll recover by-and-by.

Car. No, no, she'll die, nurse, for she said she would; an' she had not said so, 'thad been another matter; but you know, nurse, she ne'er told a lie: I will believe her, for she speaks all truth.

Nurse. His memory begins to fail him. Come, let's bear

This heavy spectacle from forth his presence; The heavens will lend a hand, I hope, of comfort. [Exeunt.

CARRACUS manet.

Car. See how they steal away my fair Maria! But I will follow after her, as far

As Orpheus did to gain his soul's delight;
And Pluto's self shall know, altho' I am not
Skilful in musick, yet I can be mad,

And force my love's enjoyment, in despight
Of hell's black fury. But stay, stay, Carracus,
Where is thy knowledge, and that rational sense,
Which heaven's great architect endued thee with?
All sunk beneath the weight of lumpish nature?
Are our diviner parts no noblier free,

Than to be tortur'd by the weak assailments
Of earth-sprung griefs? Why is man, then, ac-
counted

The head commander of this universe,
Next the Creator, when a little storm
Of nature's fury strait o'erwhelms his judgment?
But mine's no little storm, it is a tempest
So full of raging self-consuming woe,
That nought but ruin follows expectation.
Oh, my Maria, what unheard of sin
Have any of thine ancestors enacted,
That all their shame should be pour'd thus on
thee?

Or what incestuous spirit, cruel Albert,
Left hell's vast womb for to enter thee,
And do a mischief of such treachery?
Enter Nurse, weeping.

Oh, nurse, how is it with Maria?

If e'er thy tongue did utter pleasing words,
Let it now do so, or hereafter e'er
Be dumb in sorrow.

Nurse. Good sir, take comfort; I am forced
to speak

What will not please: your chaste wife, sir, is dead.

Car. 'Tis dead, indeed; how did you know 'twas so, nurse?

Nurse. What, sir?

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When they had fees on both sides; view the thoughts

Of forlorn widows, when their knights have left them;

Search thro' the guts of greatness, and behold What several sin best pleas'd them: thence I'd descend

Into the bowels of some pocky sir,
And tell to lechers all the pains he felt,
That they thereby might warned be from lust.
Troth, 'twill be rare! I'll study it presently.
Nurse. Alas! he is distracted! what a sin
Am I partaker of, by telling him

So curst an untruth? But 'twas my mistress' will,
Who is recover'd; tho' her griefs never
Can be recover'd. She hath vow'd, with tears,
Her own perpetual banishinent; therefore to him
Death were not more displeasing, than if I
Had told her lasting absence.

Car. I find my brain's too shallow far for study.
What need I care for being a 'rithmetician?
Let citizens' sons stand, an' they will, for cyphers:
Why should I teach them, and go beat my brains
To instruct unapt and unconceiving dolts;
And, when all's done, my art, that should be
fam'd,

Will by gross imitation be but sham'd?

Your judgment, madam.

Nurse. Good sir, walk in; we'll send for learned men

That can allay your frenzy.

Car. But can Maria so forget herself, As to debar us thus of her attendance? Nurse. She's within, sir, pray you, will you

walk to her?

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Enter MARIA in a page's apparel. Mar. Cease now thy steps, Maria, and look back

Upon that place, where distress'd Carracus
Hath his sad being; from whose virtuous bosom
Shame hath constrain'd me fly, ne'er to return.
I will go seek some unfrequented path,
Either in desert woods or wilderness,
There to bewail my innocent mishaps,
Which heaven bath justly poured down on me,
In punishing my disobediency.

Enter Young Lord WEALTHY. Ob, see my brother! [Exit MARIA. Weal. jun. Ho, you! three foot and a half! why page, I say! 'sfoot he is vanish'd as suddenly as 14 a dumb shew. If a lord had lost his way now, so he had been serv'd. But let me see, as

I take it, this is the house of Carracus; a very fair building, but it looks as if 'twere dead, I can see no breath come out of the chimnies. But I shall know the state on't by-and-by, by the looks of some serving-man. What ho, within here! Enter Servant.

Serv. Good sir, you have your arms at liberty? wilt please you to withdraw your action of battery?

Weal. jun. Yes, indeed, now you have made your appearance. Is thy living giver within, sir?

Serv. You mean my master, sir?

Weal. jun. You have hit it, sir, praised be your understanding. I am to have conference with him; would you admit my presence?

Serv. Indeed, sir, he is at this time not in health, and may not be disturb'd.

Weal. jun. Sir, if he were in the pangs of child-bed, I'd speak with him.

Enter CARRACUS.

Car. Upon what cause, gay man?

Weal. jun. 'Sfoot, I think he be disturb'd indeed, he speaks more commanding than a constable at midnight. Sir, my lord and father, by me a lord, bath sent these lines inclos'd, which shew his whole intent.

Car. Let me peruse them; if they do portend To the State's good, your answer shall be sudden, Your entertainment friendly; but if otherwise, Our meanest subject shall divide thy greatness. You'd best look to't, embassador.

Weal. jun. Is your master a statesman, friend? Serv. Alas! no, sir; he understands not what he speaks.

Weal. jun. Ay, but when my father dies, I am to be called in for one myself, and I hope to bear the place as gravely as my successors have done before me.

Car. Embassador, I find your master's will Treats to the good of somewhat, what it isYou have your answer, and may now depart. Weal. jun. I will relate as much, sir, fare ye

well.

Car. But stay, I had forgotten quite our chief'st affairs:

Your master farther writes, some three lines lower,

Of one Maria that is wife to me,
That she and I should travel now with you
Unto his presence.

Weal. jun. Why now I understand you, sir: that Maria is my sister, by whose conjunction you are created brother to me, a lord.

Car. But, brother lord, we cannot go this journey.

14 A dumb show—i. e. one of those inexplicable dumb shews ridiculed by Hamlet. See edition of Shakspeare 1778, Vol. X. p. 284.

S.

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Reb. When you have got this prize, you mean to lose me.

Had. Nay, pr'ythee, do not think so; if I do not marry thee this instant night, may I never enjoy breath a minute after! by heaven I respect not his pelf, thus much, but only that I may have wherewith to maintain thee.

Reb. O, but to rob my father tho' he be bad, the world will think ill of me.

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Hog. Peter!

P. Serv. Anon, sir.

Hog. I wonder how Haddit came by that gay suit of cloaths, all his means were consum'd long since.

P. Serv. Why, sir, being undone himself, he lives by the undoing or (by lady) it may be by the doing of others? or peradventure both; a decay'd gallant may live by any thing, if he keep one thing safe.

Hog. Gentlemen, I'll to the scrivener's, to cause these writings to be drawn. Light. Pray do, sir, we'll now leave you till the morning.

Had. Think ill of thee! can the world pity Hog. Nay, you shall stay dinner, I'll return him, that ne'er pity'd any? besides, since there presently; Peter, some beer here for these woris no end of his goods, nor beginning of his good-shipful gentlemen. [Exeunt Hoo and PETER. ness, had not we as good share his dross in his life-time, as let controversy and lawyers devour it at his death?

Reb. You have prevail'd; at what hour is't you intend to have entrance into his chamber?

Had. Why, just at mid-night; for then our apparition will seem most fearful. You'll make a way that we may ascend up like spirits?

Reb. I will; but how many have you made instruments herein?

Had. Faith none, but my cousin Lightfoot and a player.

Reb. But may you trust the player? Had. Oh, exceeding well; we'll give him a speech he understands not. But, now I think on't, what's to be done with your father's man, Peter?

Reb. Why the least quantity of drink will lay him dead asleep.--But hark, I hear my father coming; soon in the evening I'll convey you in. Had. Till when, let this outward ceremony be a true pledge of our inward affections.

[Exit REBECCA. So, this goes better forward than the plantation in 15 Virginia: but see, here comes half the West-Indies, whose rich mines this might I mean to be ransacking.

Enter HOG, LIGHTFOOT, and PETER, Hog. Then you'll seal for this small lordship, you say? To-morrow your money shall be rightly told up for you to a penny.

Light, I pray let it, and that your man may set contents upon every bag.

Had. Indeed by that we may know what we steal without labour, for the telling on't over.

Had. We shall be bold no doubt; and that, old penny-father, you'll confess by to-morrow morning.

Light. Then his daughter is certainly thine, and condescends to all thy wishes?

Had. And yet you would not once believe it; as if a female's favour could not he obtain❜d by any, but he that wears the cap of mainte

nance;

When 'tis nothing but acquaintance, and a bold spirit,

That may the chiefest prize 'mongst all of them inherit.

Light. Well, thou hast got one deserves the bringing home with trumpets, and falls to thee as miraculously as the one thousand pound did to the taylor. Thank your good fortune. But must Hog's man be made drunk?

Had. By all means; and thus it shall be effected: when he comes in with beer, do you upon some slight occasion fall out with him, and if you give him a cuff or two, it will give him cause to know you are the more angry; then will I slip in and take up the matter, and striving to make you two friends, we'll make him drunk. Light. It's done in conceit already-see where he comes.

Enter PETER.

P. Serv. Wilt please you to taste a cup of September beer, gentlemen?

Light. Pray begin, we'll pledge you, sir.
P. Serv. It's out, sir.

Light. Then my hand is in, sir.

[LIGHTFOOT Cuffs him. Why goodman Hobby-horse, if we out of our

15 Virginia.-See Dodsley's Old Plays, Vol. VI. p. 44, Note 20, edit, 1780,

gentility offer'd you to begin, must you out of your rascality needs take it?

Had. Why, how now, sirs, what's the matter? P. Serv. The gentleman here falls out with me, upon nothing in the world but mere courtesy. Had. By this light, but he shall not; why, consin Lightfoot!

P. Serv. Is his name Lightfoot? a plague on him, he has a heavy hand.

Enter Young Lord WEALTHY.

Weal. jun. Peace be here; for I came late enough from a madman.

Had. My young lord, God save you. Weal. jun. And you also: I could speak it in Latin, but 16 the phrase is common.

Had. True, my lord, and what's common ought not much to be dealt withal; bnt I must desire your help, my lord, to end a controversy here, between this gentleman my friend, and honest Peter, who I dare be sworn is as ignorant as your lordship.

Weal. jun. That I will; but, my masters, thus much I'll say unto you, if so be this quarre! may be taken up peaceably, without the endangering of my own person, well and good, otherwise I will not meddle therewith, for I have been vex'd late enough already.

Had. Why then, my lord, if it please you, let me, being your inferior, decree the cause between them.

Weal. jun. I do give leave, or permit.
Had. Then thus I will propound a reasonable

motion; how many cuffs, Peter, did this gentleman out of his fury make thee partake of? P. Serv. Three at the least, sir.

Had. All which were bestow'd upon you for beginning first, Peter.

P. Serv. Yes, indeed, sir.

Had. Why then hear the sentence of your suffering. You shall both down into master Hog's cellar, Peter; and whereas you began first to him, so shall he there to you; and as he gave you three cuffs, so shall you retort off, in defiance of him, three black jacks, which if he deny to pledge, then the glory is thiue, and he accounted by the wise discretion of my lord here a flincher.

Omnes. A very reasonable motion.

Weal. jun. Why so; this is better than being among madmen yet.

Had. Were you so lately with any, my lord? Weal. jun. Yes faith; I'll tell you all in the cellar, how I was taken for an embassador; and being no sooner in the house, but the madman carries me up into the garret for a spy, and very roundly bade me untruss; and, had not a courteous serving-man convey'd me away whilst he went to fetch whips, I think in my conscience, not respecting my honour, he would have 17 breech'd me.

Had. By lady, and 'twas to be fear'd; but come, my lord, we'll hear the rest in the cellar. And honest Peter, thou that hast been griev'd, My lord and I will see thee well reliev'd.

[Exeunt.

ACTUS QUARTUS.

Enter ALBERT in the woods.

Which their whole life's repentance scarce can clear?

Alb. How full of sweet content had this life I could now tell to friend-betraying man,

been,

If it had been embraced but before

My burthenous conscience was so fraught with sin!

But now my griefs o'ersway that happiness.
O, that some letcher, or accurs'd betrayer
Of sacred friendship, might but here arrive,
And read the lines repentant on each tree,
That I have carv'd t'express my misery!
My admonitions now would sure convert
The sinfull'st creature; I could tell them now,
How idly vain those humans spend their lives,
That daily grieve, not for offences past,
But to enjoy some wanton's company;
Which when obtain'd, what is it, but a blot,

How black a sin is hateful treachery,
How heavy on their wretched souls 'twill sit,
When fearful death doth plant his siege but
near them.

How heavy and affrightful will their end
Seem to approach them, as if then they knew
The full beginning of their endless woe
Were then appointed; which astonishment,
O blest repentance, keep me Albert from !
And suffer not despair to overwhelm,
And make a shipwreck of my heavy soul.
Enter MARIA like a page.

Who's here, a page? what black disastrous fate
Can be so cruel to his pleasing youth?

16 The phrase is common.-Alluding to the use of it in Cooke's City Gallant, commonly called Green's Tu Quoque. See Vol. II. p. 538.

17 Breech'd me—i. e. whipp'd me. See Note 48 to Edward II. Vol. I. p. 188.

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