I do not doubt, sufficient: but beware!
Mar. You are merry, cousin.
Cler. Yet your patience;

You shall learn that too, but not like itself,
Where it is held a virtue. Tell ine, sir,
Have you cast up your state, rated' your land,
And find it able to endure the change
Of time and fashion? Is it always harvest?
Always vintage? Have you ships at sea,
To bring you gold and stone from rich
Peru,

Monthly returning treasure? Doth the king
Open his large exchequer to your hands,
And bid you be a great man? Can your wife
Coin off her beauty? or the week allow
Suits to each day, and know no ebb in
honour?

If these be possible, and can hold out,
Then be a courtier still, and still be wasting!
Mar. Cousin, pray give me leave!
Cier. I have done.

[strain
Mur. I could requite your gall, and in a
As bitter, and full of rhubarb, preach
Against your country life; but 'tis below me,
And only subject to my pity! Know,
The eminent court, to them that can be wise,
And fasten on her blessings, is a sun
That draws men up froin coarse and earthly
being,

(I mean these men of merit that have power And reason to make good her benefits)

2

Nor am I yet in travail with that longing.
Mar. Oh, the state
[found
And greatness of that place, where men arc
Only to give the first creation glory!
Those are the models of the ancient world,
Left like the Roman statues to stir up
Our following hopes; the place itself puts on
The brow of majesty, and flings her lustre
Like the air newly lighten'd; form, and order,
Are only there themselves, unforc'd, aud
sound,

As they were first created to this place.

Cler. You nobly came, but will go from thence base! [ceit; Mar. Twas very pretty, and a good conYou have a wit, good cousin: I do joy in't; Keep it for court. But to myself again! When I have view'd these pieces, turn'd these eyes,

And, with some taste of superstition, Look'd on the wealth of nature, the fair dames, [shew Beauties, that light the court, and make it Like a fair heaven in a frosty night, And 'mongst these mine, not poorest-Tis for tongues

Of blessed poets, such as Orpheus was,
To give their worth and praises! Oh, dear
cousin,

You have a wife, and fair; bring her hither,
Let her not live to be the mistress of
A farmer's heir, and be confined ever
T'a searge, far coarser than my horse-cloth!
Let her have velvets, tittinies, jewels, pearls,
A coach, an usher, and her two lacquies;
And I will send my wife to give her rules,
And read the rudiments of court to her.

Cler. Sir, I had rather send her to Vir ginia2,

To help to propagate the English nation.

Mar.

Mar. What, iny learned Doctor!

You will be welcome: give her health and youth,

And I will give you gold.

[Exit Doctor. Cousin, how savours this? Is it not sweet, And very great? tastes it not of nobleness? Cler. Faith, sir, my palate is too dull and lazy;

I cannot taste it; 'tis not for my relish :
But be so still! since your own misery
Must first reclaim you; to which I leave you,
sir!

If you will yet be happy, leave the humour,
And base subjection to your wife; be wise,
And let her know with speed you are her
husband!

I shall be glad to hear it. My horse is sent for. [Exit.

Mur. Even such another country thing as this

Was I; such a piece of dirt, so heavy,
So provident to heap up ignorance,
And be an ass; such musty cloaths wore I,
So old and thread-bare: I do yet remember
Divers young gallants, lighting at my gate
To see my honour'd wife, have offer'd
pence,
And bid me walk their horses. Such a slave
Was I in show then; but my eyes are open'd.
Enter Lady.

Many sweet morrows to my worthy wife! Lady. 'Tis well, and aptly giv'n; as much for you!

But to my present business, which is money. Mar. Lady, I have none left. [imagine Lady. I hope you dare not say so, nor Se base and low a thought: I have none left?

Are these words fitting for a man of worth, And one of your full credit? Do you know The place you live in? me? and what I la

bour

For you, and your advancement?

Mar. Yes, my dearest. [slight answer, Ludy. And do you pop me off with this In troth, I have none left?' In troth, you must have!

Nay, stare not; 'tis most true: send speedily
To all that love you, let your people fly
Like thunder thro' the city, and not return
Under five thousand crowns. Try all, take
all;

Let not a worthy merchant be untempted,
Or any one that hath the name of money;
Take up at any use; give band 3, or land,
Or mighty statutes, able by their strength
To tie up Samson were he now alive,
There must be money gotten; for, be per-
suaded,

If we fall now, or be but seen to shrink
Under our fair beginnings, 'tis our ruin,
And then good night to all but our disgrace!
Farewell, the hope of coming happiness,
And all the aims we levell'd at so long!
Are you not mov'd at this? No sense of
want,

Towards yourself yet breeding?

Be old, and common, jaded to the eyes
Of grooms, and pages, chambermaids, and
guarders;
[house in order
And when you have done, put your poor
And hang yourself! for such must be the end
Of him that willingly forsakes his hopes,
And hath a joy to tumble to his ruin.
All that I say is certain; if you fail,
Do not impute me with it; I am clear.

Mar. Now Heav'n forbid I should do wrong to you, [leave My dearest wife, and madam! Yet give To your poor creature to unfold himself: You know my debts are many more than

Sympson.

Sympson.

Z

For

Love. What's my name? Pray you speak. -Shut. That's all one; I do know you and your business:

You are discover'd, lady! I am wary; It stands upon my life. Pray excuse me! The best man of this kingdom sent you hither, To dive into me: Have I touch'd you? ha? Love. You are deceiv'd, sir; I come from your Love, [kisses. That sends you fair commends, and many Shat. Alas, poor soul, how does she; is she living?

Keeps she her bed still?

Love. Still, sir, she is living;

And well, and shall do so.

Love. Good sir, I love you. Shut. Then love the gracious king, and say Heav'n save his grace!

Love. Heav'n save his grace13!

Shat. This is strange,

A woman should be sent to undermine me,
And buz love into me to try my spirit ;
Offer me kisses, and enticing follies,
To make me open and betray myself:
It was a subtle and a dangerous plot,
And very soundly follow'd!--Farewell, lady!
Let me have equal hearing, and relate
I am an honest man. Heav'n save the king!
[Exit.

Love. I'll never leave him, 'till, by art or prayer,

I have restor'd his senses: If I make
Him perfect man again, he's mine; 'till when,
I here abjure all loves of other men !

Enter Clerimont and Jaques.

[Exit.

then say with me

Heav'n save his grace.

Love. Heav'n save his grace.

And eat coarse bread, wear the worst wool, know nothing

But the highway to Paris: and wouldst thou have me bring these stains And imperfections to the rising view Of the right worshipful thy worthy master? They must be bright, and shine, their cloaths soft velvet [gams*,

And the Tyrian purple, like the Arabian Hung like the sun, their golden beams on all sides; [ter, I Such as these may come and know thy masAm base, and dare not speak unto him, he's above me. [state, Jaques. If ever you did love him, or his His name, his issue, or yourself, go back! 'Twill be an honest and a noble part, Worthy a kinsman; save three hundred acres From present exccution"; they've had sen

tence,

And cannot be repriev'd; be merciful! [sons Cler. Have I not urg'd already all the reaI had, to draw him from his will? his ruin? But all in vain! no counsel can prevail:

H' has fix'd himself; there's no removing, Jaques ; [vain. 'Twill prove but breath and labour spent in I'll to my horse; farewell!

Jaques. For God's sake, sir,

As ever you have hope of joy, turn back!
I'll be your slave for ever, do but go;
And I will lay such fair directions to you,
That, if he be not doting on his fall,
He shall recover sight, and see his danger.
And you shall tell him of his wife's abuses,
(I fear, too foul against him!) how she plots
With our young monsicurs, to milk dry hus-
band,

And lay it on their backs: the next her pride;
Then what his debts are, and how infinite
The curses of his tenants; this will work;
I'll pawn my life and head, he cries, Away!
I'll to my house in the country.'

Cler. Come, I'll go,

And once more try him: if he yield not so; The next that tries him shall be want and

woe.

[Exeunt.

I would, when first the lust to fame and ho

nour

Possess'd me, I had met with any evil
But that! Had I been tried to stay at home,
And earn the bread for the whole family
With my own hand, happy had I been!
Enter Jaques.

Juques. Sir, this is from your wented course at home:

[hours? When did you there keep such inordinate

Sympson.

Go