How like a sheep-biting rogue taken i'th' manner,
And ready for the halter, dost thou look now?
Thou hast a hanging look, thou scurvy thing;
hast ne'er a knife,

Nor ever a string to lead thee to Elysium?
Be there no pitiful 'pothecaries in this town,
That have compassion upon wretched women,
And dare administer a dram of rats-bane,
But thou must fall to me?

Estif. I know you have mercy.

Per. If I had tons of mercy thou deserv'st none. What new trick is now a-foot, and what new houses

Have you i' th' air, what orchards in apparition? What canst thou say for thy life?

Estif. Little or nothing.

I know you'll kill me, and I know 'tis useless
To beg for mercy; pray let me draw my book out,
And pray a little.

Per. Do, a very little,

For I have farther business than thy killing. I have money yet to borrow; speak when you are ready.

Estif. Now, now sir, now- [Shews a pistol. Come on! do you start off from me?

Do you swear, great captain, have you seen a spirit?

Per. Do you wear guns?

Estif. I am a soldier's wife, sir,And by that privilege I may be arm'd.

Now what's the news, and let's discourse more friendly,

And talk of our affairs in peace.

Per. Let me see,

Prithee let me see thy gun, 'tis a very pretty one. Estif. No, no, sir, you shall feel.

Per. Hold ye, villain! what, thine own husband? Estif. Let mine own husband then

Be in's own wits: there, there's a thousand ducats. Who must provide for you? and yet you'll kill me! Per. I will not hurt thee for ten thousand mil

lions.

Estif. When will you redeem your jewels? I have pawn'd 'em

You see for what; we must keep touch.
Per. I'll kiss thee,

And get as many more; I'll make thee famous.
Had we the house now!-

Estif. Come along with me;

If that be vanished, there be more to hire, sir. Per. I see I am an ass when thou art near me.

[Exeunt.

Eater LEON, MARGARITA, and ALTEA, with a Taper.

Leon. Is the fool come?

Alt. Yes, and i' th' cellar fast,

And there he stays his good hour till I call him;
He will make dainty music among the sack-butts.
I have put him just, sir, under the duke's chamber.
Leon. It is the better.

Alt. Has given me royally,
And to my lady a whole load of portigues.

Leon. Better and better still. Go, Margarita, Now play your prize; you say you dare be honest, VOL. III.

Marg. Secure yourself, sir; give me the candle, Pass away in silence. [Exeunt LEON and ALTEA. [She knocks.

Duke. Who's there? Oh, oh.

Marg. My lord.

Duke. [Within,] Have ye brought me comfort
Marg. I have, my lord.

Come forth, 'tis I; come gently out, I'll help ye.
Enter Duke, in a Gown.

Come softly too; how do you?

Duke. Are there none here?

Let me look round; we cannot be too wary. [Noise below. Oh, let me bless this hour! are you alone, sweet friend?

Marg. Alone to comfort you.

[CACA. makes a noise below. Duke. What's that you tumble?

I have heard a noise this half hour under me,
A fearful noise.

Marg. The fat thing's mad i' th' cellar,
And stumbles from one hogshead to another;
Two cups more, and he ne'er shall find the way

out.

to satisfy me;

you have

Your life, I know; but is it fit I spoil ye?
Is it my love, do you think?

Cac. [Below.] Here's to the duke.
Duke. It named me, certainly;

I heard it plainly sound,

Marg. You are hurt mortally,

And fitter for your prayers, sir, than pleasure. What starts you make! I would not kiss you wantonly

For the world's wealth: have I secured my husband,
And put all doubts aside, to be deluded?
Cac. [Below.] I come, I come.

Duke, Heaven bless me !

Marg. And bless us both, for sure this is the

devil;

I plainly heard it now; he will come to fetch ye; A very spirit, for he spoke under ground,

I

me:

You are a wicked man, and sure this haunts ye; Would you were out o' th' house!

Duke. I would I were,

O' that condition I had leapt a window.

Marg. And that's the least leap, if you mean to 'scape, sir.

Why what a frantic man were you to come here, What a weak man to counterfeit deep wounds, To wound another deeper?

Duke. Are you honest then?

Marg. Yes, then, and now, and ever, and excellent honest,

And exercise this pastime but to shew ye, Great men are fools sometimes as well as wretches.

Would you were well hurt, with any hope of life, Cut to the brains, or run clean through the body, To get out quietly as you got in, sir.

I wish it like a friend that loves you dearly; For if my husband take ye, and take ye thus a counterfeit,

One that would clip his credit out of his honour,
He must kill ye presently;

There is no mercy, nor an hour of pity;
And for me to entreat in such an agony,
Would shew me little better than one guilty:
Have you any mind to a lady now?

Duke. Would I were off fair!

If ever lady caught me in a trap more—
Marg. If you be well and lusty; fie, fie, shake
not!

You say you love me; come, come, bravely now,
Despise all danger, I am ready for ye.
Duke. She mocks my misery; thou cruel lady!
Marg. Thou cruel ford! wouldst thou betray
my honesty?

Betray it in mine own house, wrong my husband, Like a night-thief, thou dar'st not name by daylight?

Duke. I am most miserable.

Marg. You are indeed,

And, like a foolish thing, you have made your

self so ;

Could not your own discretion tell ye, sir,
When I was married I was none of yours?
Your eyes were then commanded to look off me,
And I now stand in a circle, and secure,
Your spells nor power can never reach my body;
Mark me but this, and then, sir, be most
able;

Marg. The devil haunts you sure, your sins are mighty;

A drunken devil too, to plague your villany.
Duke. Preserve me but this once.

Marg. There's a deep well

In the next yard, if you dare venture drowning; It is but death.

Duke. I would not die so wretchedly.

Marg. Out of a garret window I'll let you down then.

But say the rope be rotten? 'tis huge high too. Duke. Have you no mercy?

Marg. Now you are frighted thoroughly, And find what 'tis to play the fool in folly, And see with clear eyes your detested folly, I'll be your guard.

Duke. And I'll be your true servant, Ever from this hour virtuously to love ye, Chastely and modestly to look upon ye,

And here I seal it.

Marg. I may kiss a stranger, for you must now be so.

Enter LEON, JUan, Alonzo, Sanchio. Leon. How do you, my lord? Methinks you look but poorly on this matter. Has my wife wounded ye? ye were well before. Pray, sir, be comforted, I have forgot all, Truly forgiven too. Wife, you are a right one, And now with unknown nations I dare trust ye. Juan. No more feigned fights, my lord; they

never prosper.

'Tis sacrilege to violate a wedlock; You rob two temples, make yourself twice guilty, You ruin hers, and spot her noble husband's.

Duke. Let me begone; I'll never more attempt ye.

Marg. You cannot go, 'tis not in me to save ye; Dare ye do ill, and poorly then shrink under it? Were I the duke Medina, I would fight now, For you must fight, and bravely, it concerns you. You do me double wrong if you sneak off, sir, And all the world would say I loved a coward; And you must die too, for you will be killed,

Leon. There's two in thine, I'm sure, 'tis grown

so monstrous. Caca. Butt in thy face.

Leon. Go carry him to sleep;

A fool's love should be drunk; he has paid well for't too.

When he is sober, let him out to rail, Or hang himself; there will be no loss of him. [Exeunt CAC. und Servant.

Enter PEREZ and ESTIFANIA. Leon. Who's this? my mahound cousin?

Per. Good sir, 'tis very good; would I had a house too,

For there is no talking in the open air;
My termagant coz, I would be bold to tell ye,
I durst be merry too: I tell you plainly,
You have a pretty seat, you have the luck on't,
A pretty lady too; I have missed both,
My carpenter built in a mist, I thank him;
Do me the courtesy to let me see it,

See it but once more. But I shall cry for anger.
I'll hire a chandler's shop close under ye,
And for my foolery, sell soap and whip-cord;
Nay if you do not laugh now, and laugh heartily,
You are a fool, coz.

Leon. I must laugh a little;

And now I have done, coz, thou shalt live with

me,

My merry coz, the world shall not divorce us; Thou art a valiant man, and thou shalt never want;

Will this content thee?

Per. I'll cry, and then I'll be thankful,
Indeed I will, and I'll be honest to ye.
I would live a swallow here, I must confess.
Wife, I forgive thee all, if thou be honest;
At thy peril, I believe thee excellent.

Estif. If I prove otherwise, let me beg first. Hold, this is yours, some recompence for service; Use it to nobler ends than he that gave it.

Duke. And this is yours, your true commission, sir;

Now you are a captain.

Leon. You are a noble prince, sir,

And now a soldier; gentlemen, we all rejoice in't. Juan. Sir, I shall wait upon you through all

fortunes.

Alon. And I.

Alt. And I must needs attend my mistress.
Leon. Will you go, sister?

Alt. Yes indeed, good brother;
I have two ties, mine own blood
And my mistress,

Marg. Is she your sister? Leon. Yes indeed, good wife, And my best sister;

For she proved so, wench,

When she deceived you with a loving husband.
Alt. I would not deal so, truly, for a stranger.
Marg. Well I could chide ye,

But it must be lovingly, and like a sister;
I'll bring ye on your way, and feast ye nobly,
For now I have an honest heart to love ye,
And then deliver you to the blue Neptune.
Juan. Your colours you must wear, and wear
'em proudly;

Wear 'em before the bullet, and in blood too;
And all the world shall know

We are Virtue's servants.

Duke. And all the world shall know, a noble mind

Makes women beautiful, and envy blind.

[Exeunt,

As we hope many, to such fortune sends
Their own desires, wives fair as light, as chaste;
To those that live by spite, wives made in haste.

Enter PETER and ANTHONY, two serving Men. Pet. WOULD we were remov'd from this town, Anthony,

That we might taste some quiet; for mine own part,

I'm almost melted with continual trotting
After enquiries, dreams, and revelations,

Of who knows whom or where. Serve wenching soldiers!

I'll serve a priest in Lent first, and eat bell-ropes.
Ant. Thou art the forwardest fool-
Pet. Why, good tame Anthony,

Tell me but this; to what end came we hither?
Ant. To wait upon our masters.
Pet. But how, Anthony?

Pet. Shew your uses, Anthony.
Ant. To be employ'd in any thing.
Pet. No, Anthony,

Not any thing, I take it, nor that thing
We travel to discover, like new islands;
A salt itch serve such uses! in things of moment,
Concerning things I grant ye, not things errant,
Sweet ladies' things, and things to thank the sur-

geon:

In no such things, sweet Anthony. Put caseAnt. Come, come, all will be mended: this invisible woman,

Of infinite shape and beauty,

That bred all this trouble to no purpose,
They are determin'd now no more to think on.
Pet. Were there ever

Men known to run mad with report before?
Or wander after what they know not where

Ant. To serve their uses.

brains

Made now-a-days with malt, that their affections
Are never sober; but, like drunken people,
Founder at every new fame? I do believe
That men in love are ever drunk, as drunken men
Are ever loving.

Ant. Pr'ythee, be thou sober,

And know that they are none of those, not guilty
Of the least vanity of love: only a doubt
Fame might too far report, or rather flatter
The graces of this woman, made them curious
To find the truth; which, since they find so,
Lock'd up from their searches; they are now re-
solv'd

To give the wonder over.

Pet. Would they were resolv'd

To give me some new shoes too; for I'll be sworn
These are e'en worn out to the reasonable soles
In their good worships' business: and some sleep
Would not do much amiss, unless they mean
To make a bellman of me. Here they come.

[Exeunt.

Enter Don JOHN and Don FREDERICK. John. I would we could have seen her though; for sure

She must be some rare creature, or report lies: All men's reports too.

Fred. I could well wish I had seen Constantia: But, since she is so conceal'd, plac'd where No knowledge can come near her, so guarded As 'twere impossible, though known, to reach her, I have made up my belief.

John. Hang me, from this hour,

If I more think upon her;

But, as she came a strange report unto me,
So the next fame shall lose her.

Fred. 'Tis the next way

But whither are you walking?
John. My old round,

After

my meat, and then to bed.
Fred. "Tis healthful.

John. Will you not stir?
Fred. I have a little business.

John. I'd lay my life, this lady still-
Fred. Then you would lose it.
John. Pray, let's walk together.
Fred. Now I cannot.

John. I have something to impart.
Fred. An hour hence

I will not miss to meet ye.

1 Gent. Too open, indiscreet. Petr. Am I not ruin'd?

The honour of my house crack'd? my blood poison'd?

My credit and my name?

2 Gent. Be sure it be so,

Before you use this violence. Let not doubt
And a suspecting anger so much sway you;
Your wisdom may be question'd.
Ant. I say, kill him,

And then dispute the cause; cut off what may be,

And what is shall be safe.

2 Gent. Hang up a true man, Because 'tis possible he may be thievish: Alas! is this good justice?

Petr. I know as certain

As day must come again, as clear as truth,
And open as belief can lay it to me,
That I am basely wrong'd, wrong'd above re-

compence,

Maliciously abus'd, blasted for ever

In name and honour, lost to all remembrance, But what is smear'd and shameful: I must kill him,

Necessity compels me.

2 Gent. But think better.

Petr. There's no other cure left; yet witness with me

All that is fair in man, all that is noble:
I am not greedy for this life I seek for,
Nor thirst, to shed man's blood; and would
'twere possible,

I wish it with my soul, so much I tremble
T'offend the sacred image of my Maker,
My sword should only kill his crimes: no, 'tis
Honour, honour, my noble friends, that idol ho-

nour,

So much I am tied to reputation,

And credit of my house, let it raise wild-fires, And storms that toss me into everlasting ruin, Yet I must through; if ye dare side me.

Ant. Dare!

Petr. Y' are friends indeed: if not! 2 Gent. Here's none flies from you;

Do it in what design you please, we'll back ye. 1 Gent. Is the cause so mortal? nothing but his life?

Petr. Believe me,

A less offence has been the desolation
Of a whole name.

1 Gent. No other way to purge it?

Petr. There is, but never to be hop'd for. 2 Gent. Think an hour more,

And if then you find no safer road to guide ye, We'll set our rests too.