No man but has or must bury a father.
Char. Grave sir, I buried sorrow for his death
In the grave with him. I did never think
He was immortal-though I vow I grieve,
And see no reason why the vicious,
Virtuous, valiant, and unworthy men,
Should die alike.

Roch. They do not.

Char. In the manner

Of dying, sir, they do not; but all die,
And therein differ not: But I have done.
I spied the lively picture of my father,
Passing your gallery, and that cast this water
Into mine eyes: See-foolish that I am,
To let it do so.

Roch. Sweet and gentle nature!
How silken is this well comparatively
To other men! I have a suit to you, sir.
Char. Take it; 'tis granted.

Roch. What?

Char. Nothing, my lord.

Roch. Nothing is quickly granted.
Char, Faith, my lord,

That nothing granted is even all I have,
For, all know, I have nothing left to grant.
Roch. Sir, have you any suit to me? I'll grant
You something, anything.

Char. Nay, surely, I, that can
Give nothing, will but sue for that again.
No man will grant me anything I sue for,
But begging nothing, every man will give it.
Roch. Sir, the love I bore your father, and the
worth

I see in you, so much resembling his,
Made me thus send for you:-And tender here
[Draws a curtain, and discovers a Table,
with money and jewels upon it.
Whatever you will take, gold, jewels, both,
All, to supply your wants, and free yourself.
Where heavenly virtue in high-blooded veins
Is lodged, and can agree, men should kneel down,
Adore, and sacrifice all that they have;
And well they may, it is so seldom seen.
Put off your wonder, and here freely take,
Or send your servants: Nor, sir, shall you use,
In aught of this, a poor man's fee, or bribe
Unjustly taken of the rich, but what's
Directly gotten, and yet by the law.

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
Borrow, that have no means to pay? nay, am
A very bankrupt, even in flattering hope
Of ever raising any. All my begging
Is Romont's liberty.

Enter ROMONT, BEAUMONT, and Creditors loaded with money.

Roch. Here is your friend, Enfranchised ere you spake. I give him to you: And, Charalois, I give you to your friend, As free a man as he: Your father's debts

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. Rock. Call in my daughter: still I have a suit to you, [Exit BEAUMONT.

Would you requite me.

Rom. With his life, I assure you.

Roch. Nay, would you make me now your
debtor, sir!

Re-enter BEAUMONT, with BEAUMELLE.
This is my only child : What she appears,
Your lordship well may see: her education
Follows not any; for her mind, I know it
To be far fairer than her shape, and hope
It will continue so. If now her birth

Be not too mean for Charalois, take her, take
This virgin by the hand, and call her wife,
Endowed with all my fortunes. Bless me so,
Requite me thus, and make me happier,
In joining my poor empty name to yours,
Than if my 'state were multiplied tenfold.

Char. Is this the payment, sir, that you expect?
Why, you precipitate me more in debt,
That nothing but my life can ever pay.
This beauty being your daughter, in which YOURS
I must conceive necessity of her virtue,
Without all dowry is a prince's aim:
Then, as she is, for poor and worthless me
How much too worthy! Waken me, Romont,
That I may know I dreamed, and find this va-
nished.

Rom. Sure I sleep not.

Roch. Your sentence-life or death.
Char. Fair Beaumelle, can you love me?
Beaumel. Yes, my lord.

Enter NOVALL jun. PONTALIER, MALOTIN,
LILADAM, and AYMER.-All salute.
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.
Rom. What make

These dogs in doublets here?

Beaumel. A visitation, sir.

Char. Then thus, fair Beaumelle, I write my

And let these tears, an emblem of our loves,
Like crystal rivers individually

Flow into one another; make one source,
Which never man distinguish, less divide!
Breath marry breath, and kisses mingle souls;
Two hearts and bodies here incorporate;
And, though with little wooing I have won,
My future life shall be a wooing time,
And every day new as the bridal one.
Oh, sir! İ groan under your courtesies,
More than my father's bones under his wrongs.
You, Curtius-like, have thrown into the gulf
Of this his country's foul ingratitude,
Your life and fortunes, to redeem their shames.
Roch. No more, my glory! come, let's in, and
hasten

This celebration.

Rom. Mal. Pon. Beau. All fair bliss upon it! [Exeunt ROCHFORT, CHARALOIS, RoMONT, BEAUMONT, and MALOTIN.

Nov. jun. Mistress !

Beaum. Oh servant!-Virtue strengthen me! Thy presence blows round my affection's vane: You will undo me if you speak again.

[Erit BEAUMELLE. Lilad. Aym. Here will be sport for you. This works. [Exeunt LILADAM and AYMER. Nov. jun, Peace! peace!

· Pont. One word, my lord Novall!

Nov. jun. What, thou wouldst noney?-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
Wink at your follies that will ruin you.
You know my blunt way, and my love to truth:
Forsake the pursuit of this lady's honour,
Now you do se her made another man's,
And such a man's, so good, so popular!
Or you will pluck a thousand mischiefs on you.
The benefits you've done me are not lost,
Nor cast away; they are pursed here in my heart;
But let me pay you, sir, a fairer way,
Than to defend your vices, or to sooth them.
Nov. jun. Ha, ha! what are my courses unto
thee?

Good cousin Pontalier, meddle with that
That shall concern thyself. (Exit NOVALL.

Pont. No more but scorn?
Move on then, stars, work your pernicious will:
Only the wise rule, and prevent your ill. [Exit.

Hautboys.-Here a passage over the stage, while the act is playing for the marriage of CHARA LOIS with BEAUMELLE, &c.

SCENE I.-A Room in CHARALOIS' House.

Enter NOVALL jun. and BELLApert. Nov. jun. FLY not to these excuses; thou hast been

False in thy promise-and, when I have said
Ungrateful, all is spoken.

Bella. Good my lord! but hear me only.
Nov. jun. To what purpose, trifler?
Can any thing that thou canst say make void
The marriage? Or those pleasures but a dream,
Which Charalois (oh Venus) hath enjoyed?
Bella. I yet could say that you receive ad-
vantage

In what you think a loss, would you vouchsafe

Bella. I will,

Relish and taste, and make the banquet easy.
You say my lady's married-I confess it:
That Charalois hath enjoyed her 'tis most true:
That with her he's already master of
The best part of my old lord's state-still better.
But that the first or last should be your hindrance,
I utterly deny: For, but observe me,

While she went for, and was, I swear, a virgin,
What courtesy could she with her honour give,
Or you receive with safety? Take me with you;
When I say courtesy, do not think I mean
A kiss, the tying of her shoe or garter,
An hour of private conference; those are trifles.
In this word courtesy we, that are gamesters,
point at

The sport direct, where not alone the lover
Brings his artillery, but uses it;

Which word expounded to you, such a courtesy
Do you expect, and sudden.

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,
And in his prints leaves your ascent more easy.
I do not know, you that are perfect criticks
In woman's books, may talk of maidenheads-
Nov. jun. But for her marriage!

Bella. 'Tis a fair protection

'Gainst all arrests of fear or shame for ever

૨

Re-enter BELLAPERT.

I had forgot to tell your ladyship,

The closet is private, and your couch there ready;

And, if you please that I shall lose the key,
But say so, and 'tis done.

[Exit. Beaumel. You come to chide me, servant, and bring with you

Sufficient warrant. You will say, and truly,
My father found too much obedience in me,
By being won too soon; yet, if you please
But to remember, all my hopes and fortunes
Had reference to his liking, you will grant,
That though I did not well towards you, I yet
Did wisely for myself.

Nov. jun. With too much fervour

I have so long loved, and still love you, mistress,
To esteem that an injury to me,

Which was to you convenient; that is past
My help, is past my cure. You yet may, lady,
In recompence of all my duteous service,
(Provided that your will answer your power)
Become my creditress.

Beaumel. I understand you;

And for assurance the request you make
Shall not be long unanswered, pray you sit;
And by what you shall hear, you'll easily find
My passions are much fitter to desire,
Than to be sued to.

4

Enter ROMONT and FLORIMEL behind.

Flor. Sir, it is not envy

At the start my fellow has got of me in My lady's good opinion, that is the motive Of this discovery; but the due payment

Of what I owe her honour. Rom. So I conceive it.

Flor. I have observed too much, nor shall my
silence

Prevent the remedy:-yonder they are;
I dare not be seen with you. You may do
What you think fit, which will be, I presume,
The office of a faithful and tried friend
To my young lord.
[Exit FLORIMEL.
Rom. This is no vision: Ha!
Nov. jun. With the next opportunity?
Beaumel. By this kiss, and this, and this.
Nov. jun. That you would ever swear thus!
Rom. [Comes forward.] If I seem rude, your
pardon, lady;-yours

I do not ask: Come, do not dare to shew me
A face of anger, or the least dislike;
Put on, and suddenly, a milder look;
I shall grow rough else.

Nov. jun. What have I done, sir,

To draw this harsh unsavoury language from you? Rom. Done, popinjay! Why, dost thou think that, if

I e'er had dream't that thou hadst done me wrong, Thou shouldst outlive it?

Beaumel. This is something more

Than my lord's friendship gives commission for.
Nov. jun. Your presence and the place make
him presume
Upon my patience.

Rom. As if thou e'er wert angry

But with thy taylor! and yet that poor shred Can bring more to the making up of a man, Than can be hoped from thee: Thou art his creature,

And, did he not each morning new create thee, Thou'dst stink and be forgotten. I will not

change

To be the whetstone of your wit: preserve it
To spend on such as know how to admire
Such coloured stuff. In me there now speaks
to you

As true a friend and servant to your honour,
And one that will with as much hazard guard it,
As ever man did goodness. But then, lady,
You must endeavour not alone to be,
But to appear, worthy such love and service.
Beaumel. To what tends this?
Rom. Why, to this purpose, lady.
I do desire you should prove such a wife.
To Charalois (and such a one he merits)
As Caesar, did he live, could not except at;
Not only innocent from crime, but free
From all taint and suspicion.

Beaumel. They are base that judge me otherwise.

Rom. But yet be careful:

Detraction's a bold monster, and fears not
To wound the fame of princes, if it find
But any blemish in their lives to work on.
But I'll be plainer with you: had the people
Been learnt to speak but what even now I saw,
Their malice out of that would raise an engine
To overthrow your honour. In my sight,
With yonder painted fool I frighted from you,
You used familiarity beyond

A modest entertainment: you embraced him
With too much ardour for a stranger, and
Met him with kisses neither chaste nor comely.
But learn you to forget him, as I will
Your bounties to him; you will find it safer
Rather to be uncourtly than immodest.

Beaumel. This pretty rag about your neck shews well,

And, being coarse and little worth, it speaks you As terrible as thrifty.

Rom. Madam!

Beaumel. Yes:

And this strong belt, in which you hang your ho

nour,

Will outlast twenty scarfs.

Rom. What mean you, lady?

You are angry with me, and poor I laugh at it.
Do you come from the camp, which affords only
The conversation of cast suburb whores,
To set down to a lady of my rank
Limits of entertainment?

Rom. Sure a legion has possest this woman!
Beaumel. One stamp more would do well: yet
I desire not

You should grow horn-mad till you have a wife. You are come to warm meat, and perhaps clean linen;

Feed, wear it, and be thankful. For me, know,
That though a thousand watches were set on me,
And you the master-spy, I yet would use
The liberty that best likes me. I will revel,
Feast, kiss, embrace, perhaps grant larger fa-

vours;

Yet such as live upon my means shall know
They must not murmur at it. If my lord
Be now grown yellow, and has chose out you
To serve his jealousy this way, tell him this:
You have something to inform him.

[Exit BEAUMELLE.

Rom. And I will; Believe it, wicked one, I will. Hear, heaven, But, hearing, pardon me; if these fruits grow Upon the tree of marriage, let me shun it, As a forbidden sweet. An heir and rich, Young, beautiful, yet add to this—a wife, And I will rather chuse a spittle sinner, Carted an age before, though three parts rotten, And take it for a blessing, rather than Be fettered to the hellish slavery Of such an impudence.

Enter BEAUMONT with writings. Beaum, Colonel, good fortune

To meet you thus! you look sad, but I'll tell you Something that shall remove it. O how happy Is my lord Charalois in his fair bride!

Rom. A happy man indeed!-pray you, in what?

Beaum. I dare swear, you would think so good a lady

Had read an homily.

Rom. By this hand

Beaumel. And sword;

Rom. No doubt. But on.

Beaum. So fair, so chaste, so virtuous, so

friendship.

How if I break this to him? Sure it cannot Meet with an ill construction. His wisdom, Made powerful by the authority of a father, Will warrant and give privilege to his counsels. It shall be so my lord!

Roch. Your friend, Romont: Would you aught with me?

Ron. I stand so engaged

To your so many favours, that I hold it

A breach in thankfulness, should I not discover,
Though with some imputation to myself,
All doubts that may concern you.
Roch. The performance

Will make this protestation worth my thanks. Rom. Then, with your patience, lend me your attention;

For what I must deliver, whispered only,
You will with too much grief receive.

Enter BEAUMELLE and BELLAPERT, behind.

Beaumel. See, wench!

Upon my life, as I forespake, he's now Preferring his complaint; but be thou perfect, And we will fit him.

Bella. Fear not me, pox on him!

A captain turned informer against kissing; Would he were hanged up in his rusty armour! But, if our fresh wits cannot turn the plots Of such a mouldy murrion on itself,

Rich clothes, choice fare, and a true friend at a call,

With all the pleasures the night yields, forsake us! Roch. This in my daughter! Do not wrong

her.

Roch. Does your fine story begin from this? Beaumel. I thought a parting kiss From young Novall would have displeased no

more

Than heretofore it hath done; but I find
I must restrain such favours now: look, therefore,
As you are careful to continue mine,
That I no more be visited. I'll endure
The strictest course of life that jealousy
Can think secure enough, ere my behaviour
Shall call my fame in question.

Rom. Ten dissemblers

I have that confidence in your goodness, I,
That I will not consent to have you live
Like to a recluse in a cloister: Go,

Call in the gallants, let them make you merry
Use all fit liberty.

Bella. Blessing upon you!

If this new preacher, with the sword and feather,
Could prove his doctrine for canonical,
We should have a fine world. [Exit BELLAPERT
Roch. Sir, if you please

To bear yourself as fits a gentleman,
The house is at your service; but, if not,
Though you seek company elsewhere, your ab-

sence

Will not be much lamented. [Exit Rochfort.
Rom. If this be

The recompense of striving to preserve
A wanton giglet honest, very shortly
'Twill make all mankind panders.—Do you smile,
Good lady looseness? Your whole sex is like you,
And that man's mad that seeks to better any:
What new change have you next?

Beaumel. Oh, fear not you, sir!
I'll shift into a thousand, but I will
Convert your heresy.

Rom. What heresy? speak!

Beaumel. Of keeping a lady that is married, From entertaining servants.

Enter NOVALL jun. MALOTIN, LilAdam, AyMER, and PONTALIER.