miss. But you shall not find in it the ordinary and over-worn
    Trade of jesting at Lords and Courtiers, and Citizens, without
    taxation of any particular or new vice by them found out, but at
    the persons of them; such, he, that made this, thinks vile, and
    for his own part vows; That he did never think, but that a [Lord]
    born might be a wise man, and a Courtier an honest man._

_Actus Primus. Scæna Prima._

      _Enter Duke of_ Millain, Arrigo, Lucio, _and two Courtiers_.

    Tis now the sweetest time for sleep, the night is scarce
    spent; _Arrigo_, what's a clock?

    _Arri._ Past four.

    _Duke._ Is it so much, and yet the morn not up?
    See yonder where the shamefac'd Maiden comes
    Into our sight, how gently doth she slide,
    Hiding her chaste cheeks, like a modest Bride,
    With a red veil of blushes; as [is] she,
    Even such all modest virtuous Women be.
    Why thinks your Lordship I am up so soon?

    _Lucio._ About some weighty State plot.

    _Duke._ And what thinks your knighthood of it?

    _Arr._ I do think to cure some strange corruptions in the
             Common-wealth.

    _Duke._ Y'are well conceited of your selves to think
    I chuse you out to bear me company
    In such affairs and business of state:
    For am not I a pattern for all Princes,
    That break my soft sleep for my subjects good?
    Am I not careful? very provident?

    _Luc._ Your Grace is careful.

    _Arri._ Very provident.

    _Duke._ Nay, knew you how my serious working plots,
    Concern the whole Estates of all my subjects,
    I, and their lives; then _Lucio_ thou wouldst swear,
    I were a loving Prince.

    _Luc._ I think your Grace intends to walk the publick
    streets disguis'd, to see the streets disorders.

    _Duke._ It is not so.

    _Arri._ You secretly will cross some other states, that do
    conspire against you.

    _Duke._ Weightier far:
    You are my friends, and you shall have the cause;
    I break my sleeps thus soon to see a wench.

    _Luc._ Y'are wond'rous careful for your subjects good.

    _Arri._ You are a very loving Prince indeed.

    _Duke._ This care I take for them, when their dull eyes,
    Are clos'd with heavy slumbers.

    _Arri._ Then you rise to see your wenches?

    _Luc._ What _Milan_ beauty hath the power, to charme her
    Sovereign eyes, and break his sleeps?

    _Duke._ Sister to Count _Valore_, she's a Maid
    Would make a Prince forget his throne, and sta[t]e,
    And lowly kneel to her: the general fate
    Of all mortality, is hers to give;
    As she disposeth, so we die and live.

    _Luc._ My Lord, the day grows clear, the Court will rise.

    _Duk._ We stay too long, is the _Umbranoes_ head as we commanded,
    sent to the sad _Gondarino_, our General?

    _Arr._ 'Tis sent.

    _Duke._ But stay, where shines that light?

    _Arri._ 'Tis in the chamber of _Lazarello_.

    _Duke. Lazarillo?_ what is he?

    _Arri._ A Courtier my Lord, and one that I wonder your Grace knows
    not: for he hath followed your Court, and your last predecessors,
    from place to place, any time this seven year[e], as faithfully as
    your Spits and your Dripping-pans have done, and almost as greasily.

    _Duke._ Oh we know him, as we have heard, he keeps a Kalender of
    all the [famous] dishes of meat, that have been in the Court, ever
    since our great Grandfathers time; and when he can thrust in at no
    Table, he makes his meat of that.

    _Lucio._ The very same my Lord.

    _Duk[e]._ A Courtier call'st thou him?
    Believe me _Lucio_, there be many such
    About our Court, respected, as they think,
    Even by our self; with thee I will be plain:

    We Princes do use, to preferre many for nothing, and to take
    particular and free knowledg[e], almost in the nature of
    acquaintance of many; whom we do use only for our pleasures, and
    [d]o give largely to numbers; more out of policy to be thought
    liberal, and by that means to make the people strive to deserve
    our Love; than to reward any particular desert of theirs, to whom
    we give: and do suffer our selves to hear flatterers, more for
    recreation

    Than for love of it, though we seldom hate it:
    And yet we know all these, and when we please,
    Can touch the wheel, and turn their names about.

    _Luc._ I wonder they that know their states so well, should fancy
    such base slaves.

    _Duke._ Thou wond'rest _Lucio_,
    Dost not thou think, if thou wert Duke of _Milan_,
    Thou should'st be flattered?

    _Luc._ I know my Lord, I would not.

    _Duke._ Why so, I thought till I was Duke, I thought I should have
    left me no more flatterers, than there are now Plain-dealers; and
    yet for all this my resolution, I am most palpably flattered: the
    poor man may loath covetousness and flattery, but fortune will
    alter the mind when the wind turns: there may be well a little
    conflict, but it will drive the billows before it.

    _Arrigo_ it grows late, for see, fair _Thetis_ hath undone the barrs
    To _Phebus_ team; and his unrival'd light,
    Hath cha[s]'d the mornings modest blush away:
    Now must we to our love, bright _Paphian_ Queen;
    Thou _Cytherean_ goddess, that delights
    In stirring glances, and art still thy self,
    More toying than thy team of Sparrows be;
    Thou laughing _Errecina_, oh inspire
    Her heart with love, or lessen my desire.                 [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Secunda._

                    _Enter_ Lazarillo _and his boy_.

    _Laz._ Go run, search, pry in every nook and angle of the Kitchins,
    Larders, and Pasteries, know what meat's boil'd, bak'd, rost,
    stew'd, fri'd, or sous'd, at this dinner to be serv'd directly, or
    indirectly, to every several Table in the Court, be gone.

    _Boy._ I run, but not so fast as your mouth will do upon the stroke
    of Eleven.                                              [_Exit Boy._

    _Laz._ What an excellent thing did God bestow upon man, when he
    [did give] him a good stomach! what unbounded graces there are
    pour'd upon them that have the continual command of the very best
    of these blessings! 'tis an excellent thing to be a Prince; he is
    serv'd with such admirable variety of Fare; such innumerable choice
    of Delicates; his Tables are full fraught with most nourishing
    food, and his Cubbards heavy laden with rich Wines; his Court
    is still filled with most [pleasing varieties]: In the Summer,
    his Palace is full of Green Geese; and in Winter it [swarmeth]
    Woodcocks,

    Oh thou goddess of Plenty
    Fill me this day with some rare delicates
    And I will every year most constantly,
    As this day celebrate a sumptuous Feast,
    If thou wilt send me victuals in thine honor;
    And to it shall be bidden for thy sake,
    Even all the valiant stomachs in the Court:
    All short-cloak'd Knights, and all cross-garter'd Gentlemen;
    All pump and pantofle, foot-cloth riders;
    With all the swarming generation
    Of long stocks, short pain'd hose, and huge stuff'd doublets:
    All these shall eat, and which is more than yet
    Hath e'er been seen, they shall be satisfied.
    I wonder my Ambassador returns not!

                              _Enter Boy._

    _Boy._ Here I am Master.

    _Laza._ And welcome:
    Never did that sweet Virgin in her smock,
    Fair-cheek'd _Andromeda_, when to the rock
    Her Ivorie limbs were chain'd, and straight before
    A huge Sea-monster, tumbling to the shore,
    To have devour'd her, with more longing sight
    Expect the coming of some hardy Knight,
    That might have quell'd his pride, and set her free,
    Than I with longing sight have look'd for thee.

    _Boy._ Your _Perseus_ is come Master, that will destroy him,
    The very comfort of whose presence shuts
    The monster hunger from your yelping guts.

    _Laza._ Brief boy, brief, discourse the service of each several
    Table compendiously.

    _Boy._ Here's a Bill of all Sir.

    _Laza._ Give it me, a Bill of all the several services this day
    appointed for every Table in the Court,

    I, this is it on which my hopes relye,
    Within this paper all my joyes are clos'd:
    Boy, open it, and read it with reverence.

    _Boy._ For the Captain of the Guards Table, three chines of Beef,
    and two jo[l]ls of Sturgeon.

    _Laza._ A portly service, but gross, gross, proceed to the Dukes
    own Table, dear boy, to the Dukes own Table.

    _Boy._ For the Dukes own Table, the head of an _Umbrana_.

    _Laza._ Is't possible? can Heaven be so propitious to the Duke?

    _Boy._ Yes, I'll assure you Sir, 'tis possible, Heaven is so
    propitious to him.

    _Laza._ Why then he is the richest Prince alive:
    He were the wealthiest Monarch in all _Europe_,
    Had he no other Territories, Dominions, Provinces, Seats,
    No[r] Palaces, but only that _Umbrana_'s head.

    _Boy._ 'Tis very fresh and sweet, Sir, the fish was taken but
    this night, and the head, as a rare novelty, appointed by special
    commandement for the Dukes own Table, this dinner.

    _Laza._ If poor unworthy I may come to eat
    Of this most sacred dish, I here do vow
    (If that blind Huswife, Fortune will bestow
    But means on me) to keep a sumptuous house,

    A board groaning under the heavy burden of the beasts that cheweth
    the cudd, and the Fowl that cutteth the Air: I shall not like the
    Table of a countrey Justice, besprinkled over with all manner of
    cheap Sallads, sliced Beef, Giblets, and Petitoes, to fill up room,
    nor should there stand any great, cumbersom, un-cut-up pies, at
    the nether end fill'd with moss and stones, partly to make a shew
    with and partly to keep the lower Mess from eating, nor shall my
    meat come in sneaking, like the City service, one dish a quarter
    of an hour after another, and gone, as if they had appointed to
    meet there, and had mistook the hour, nor should it, like the new
    Court service, come in in haste, as if it fain would be gone again,
    all courses at once, like a hunting breakfast, but I would have
    my several courses, and my dishes well fill'd, my first course
    should be brought in after the antient manner, by a score of old
    bleer-ey'd Serving-men, in long blew coats, (marry they shall buy
    Silk, Facing, and Buttons themselves) but that's by the way.

    _Boy._ Master the time calls on, will you be walking?   [_Exit Boy._

    _Laza._ Follow boy, follow, my guts were half an hour since in the
    privy Kitchin.                                            [_Exeunt._

_Scæna Tertia._

                 _Enter Count, and his Sister_ Oriana.

    _Oria._ Faith brother, I must needs go yonder.

    _Count._ And faith Sister what will you do yonder?

    _Oria._ I know the Lady _Honoria_ will be glad to see me.

    _Count._ Glad to see you? faith the Lady _Honoria_ cares for you
    as she doth for all other young Ladies, she's glad to see you, and
    will shew you the Privy Garden, and tell you how many Gowns the
    Duchess had; Marry if you have ever an old Uncle, that would be a
    Lord, or ever a kinsman that hath done a murther, or committed a
    robbery, and will give good store of Money to procure his pardon,
    then the Lady _Honoria_ will be glad to see you.

    _Oria._ I, but they say one shall see fine sights at the Court.

    _Count._ I'll tell you what you shall see, you shall see many faces
    of mans making, for you shall find very few as God left them: and
    you shall see many legs too; amongst the rest you shall behold one
    pair, the feet of which, were in times past, sockless, but are now
    through the change of time (that alters all things) very strangely
    become the legs of a Knight and a Courtier; another pair you shall
    see, that were heir apparent legs to a Glover, these legs hope
    shortly to be honourable; when they pass by they will bow, and the
    mouth to these legs, will seem to offer you some Courtship; it
    [will] swear, but [it] will lye, hear it not.

    _Oria._ Why, and are not these fine sights?

    _Count._ Sister, in seriousness you yet are young
    And fair, a fair young Maid, and apt.

    _Oria._ Apt?

    _Count._ Exceeding apt[, apt] to be drawn to.

    _Oria._ To what?

    _Count._ To that you should not be, 'tis no dispraise,
    She is not bad that hath desire to ill,
    But she that hath no power to rule that Will:
    For there you shall be wooed in other kinds
    Than yet your years have known, the chiefest men
    Will seem to throw themselves
    As vassals at your [service], kiss your hand,
    Prepare [you] Banquets, Masques, Shews, all inticements
    That Wit and Lust together can devise,
    To draw a Lady from the state of Grace
    To an old Lady widdows Gallery;
    And they will praise your virtues, beware that,
    The only way to turn a Woman whore,
    Is to commend her chastity: you'll goe?

    _Oria._ I would go, if it were but only to shew you, that I could
    be there, and be mov'd with none of these tricks.

    _Count._ Your servants are ready?

    _Oria._ An hour since.

    _Count._ Well, if you come off clear from this hot service, Your
    praise shall be the greater. Farewel Sister.

    _Oria._ Farewel Brother.

    _Count._ Once more, if you stay in the presence till candle-light,
    keep on the foreside o'th' Curtain; and do you hear, take heed
    of the old Bawd, in the cloth of Tissue sleeves, and the knit
    Mittines. Farewel Sister.                              [_Exit_ Oria.

    Now am I idle, I would I had been a Scholar, that I might a studied
    now: the punishment of meaner men is, they have too much to do;
    our only misery is, that without company we know not what to do;
    I must take some of the common courses of our Nobility; which is
    thus: if I can find no company that likes me, pluck off my Hatband,
    throw an old Cloak over my face, and as if I would not be known,
    walk hastily through the streets, till I be discovered; then there
    goes Count such a one, says one; there goes Count such a one, says
    another: Look how fast he goes, says a third; there's some great
    matters in hand questionless, says a fourth; when all my business
    is to hav[e] them say so: this hath been used; or if I can find any
    company, I'll after dinner to the Stage, to see a Play; where, when
    I first enter, you shall have a murmure in the house, every one
    that does not know cries, What Nobleman is that? all the Gallants
    on the Stage rise, vail to me, kiss their hand, offer me their
    places: then I pick out some one, whom I please to grace among the
    rest, take his seat, use it, throw my cloak over my face, and laugh
    at him: the poor Gentleman imagines himself most highly grac'd,
    thinks all the Auditors esteem him one of my bosom friends; and
    in right special regard with me. But here comes a Gentleman, that
    I hope will make me better sport, than either street and stage
    fooleries.

                      _Enter_ Lazarello _and Boy_.

    This man loves to eat good meat, always provided, he do not pay for
    it himself, he goes by the name of the _Hungry Courtier_, marry,
    because I think that name will not sufficiently distinguish him,
    for no doubt he hath more fellows there, his name is _Lazarello_,
    he is none of these [same] ordinary eaters, that will devour three
    breakfasts, and as many dinners, without any prejudice to their
    Beavers, Drinkings, or Suppers; but he hath a more courtly kind
    of hunger, and doth hunt more after novelty, than plenty, I'll
    overhear him.

    _Laza._ Oh thou most itching kindly appetite,
    Which every creature in his stomach feels;
    Oh leave, leave yet at last thus to torment me.
    Three several Sallads have I sacrific'd,
    Bedew'd with precious oil and vinegar
    Already to appease thy greedy wrath. Boy.

    _Boy._ Sir.

    _Laza._ Will the Count speak with me?

    _Boy._ One of his Gentlemen is gone to inform him of your coming,
    Sir.

    _Laza._ There is no way left for me to compass th[is] Fish-head,
    but by being presently made known to the Duke.

    _Boy._ That will be hard Sir.

    _Laza._ When I have tasted of this sacred dish,
    Then shall my bones rest in my Fathers tomb
    In peace; then shall I dye most willingly,
    And as a dish be serv'd to satisfie,
    Deaths hunger, and I will be buried thus:
    My Bier shall be a charger born by four,
    The Coffin where I lye, a powd'ring-tub,
    Bestrew'd with Lettice, and cool Sallad herbs,
    My Winding-sheet of Tansies, the black Guard
    Shall be my solemn Mourners, and instead
    Of ceremonies, wholsom burial Prayers:
    A printed dirge in rhyme, shall bury me.
    Instead of tears, let them pour Capon sauce upon my hearse,
    And salt instead of dust, Manchets for stones, for other glorious
             shields
    Give me a Voider; and above my Hearse
    For a Trutch sword, my naked knife stuck up.

                                         [_The Count discovers himself._

    _Boy._ Master, the Count's here.

    _Laza._ Where? my Lord I do beseech you.

    _Count._ Y'are very welcome Sir, I pray you stand up, you shall
    dine with me.

    _Laza._ I do beseech your Lordship by the love I still have born to
    your honourable house.

    _Count._ Sir, what need all this? you shall dine with me, I pray
    rise.

    _Laza._ Perhaps your Lordship takes me for one of these same
    fellows, that do as it were respect victuals.

    _Count._ Oh Sir by no means.

    _Laza._ Your Lordship has often promised, that whensoever I should
    affect greatness, your own hand should help to raise me.

    _Count._ And so much still assure your self of.

    _Laza._ And though I must confess, I have ever shun'd popularity,
    by the example of others, yet I do now feel my self a little
    ambitious, your Lordship is great, and though young, yet a Privy
    Counsellor.

    _Count._ I pray you Sir leap into the matter, what would You have
    me do for you?

    _Laza._ I would intreat your Lordship to make me known to the Duke.

    _Count._ When Sir?

    _Laza._ Suddainly my Lord, I would have you present me unto him
    this morning.

    _Count._ It shall be done, but for what virtues, would you have him
    take notice of you?

    _Laza._ Your Lordship shall know that presently.

    _Count._ 'Tis pity of this fellow, he is of good wit, and
    sufficient understanding, when he is not troubled with this greedy
    worm.

    _Laza._ 'Faith, you may intreat him to take notice of me for
    any thing; for being an excellent Farrier, for playing well at
    Span-counter, or sticking knives in walls, for being impudent, or
    for nothing; why may not I be a Favorite on the suddain? I see
    nothing against it.

    _Count._ Not so Sir, I know you have not the face to be a Favourite
    on the suddain.

    _Laz._ Why then you shall present me as a Gentleman well qualified,
    or one extraordinary seen in divers strange mysteries.

    _Count._ In what Sir? as how?

    _Laz._ Marry as thus--

                        _Enter [I]ntelligencer._

    _Count._ Yonder's my old Spirit, that hath haunted me daily, ever
    since I was a privy Counsellor, I must be rid of him, I pray you
    stay there, I am a little busie, I will speak with you presently.

    _Laza._ You shall bring me in, and after a little other talk taking
    me by the hand, you shall utter these words to the Duke: May it
    please your grace, to take note of a Gentleman, well read, deeply
    learned, and throughly grounded in the hidden knowledge of all
    Sallads and Pot-herbs whatsoever.

    _Count._ 'Twill be rare, if you will walk before, Sir, I will
    overtake you instantly.

    _Laza._ Your Lordships ever.

    _Count._ This fellow is a kind of an informer, one that lives in
    Alehouses and Taverns, and because he perceives some worthy men in
    this Land, with much labour and great expence, to have discovered
    things dangerously hanging over the State; he thinks to discover
    as much out of the talk of drunkards in Tap-houses: he brings me
    informations, pick'd out of broken words, in mens common talk,
    which, with his malicious mis-application, he hopes will seem
    dangerous, he doth besides, bring me the names of all the young
    Gentlemen in the City, that use Ordinaries, or Taverns, talking
    (to my thinking) only as the freedom of their youth teach them,
    without any further ends; for dangerous and seditious spirits;
    he is besides, an arrant whoremaster, as any is in _Milan_, of a
    Lay-man; I will not meddle with the Clergy: he is parcel Lawyer,
    and in my conscience much of their religion, I must put upon him
    some piece of service; come hither Sir, what have you to do with me?

    _Int._ Little my Lord, I only come to know how your Lordship would
    employ me.

    _Count._ Observed you that Gentleman, that parted from me but now?

    _Int._ I saw him now my Lord.

    _Count._ I was sending for you, I have talked with this man, and I
    do find him dangerous.

    _Int._ Is your Lordship in good earnest?

    _Count._ Hark you Sir, there may perhaps be some within ear-[shot].
    [_He whispers with him._

                    _Enter_ Lazarello _and his Boy_.

    _Laz._ Sirrah, will you venture your life, the Duke hath sent the
    Fish-head to my Lord?

    _Boy._ Sir if he have not, kill me, do what you will with me.

    _Laz._ How uncertain is the state of all mortal things! I have
    these crosses from my Cradle, from my very Cradle, insomuch that
    I do begin to grow desperate: Fortune I do despise thee, do thy
    worst; yet when I do better gather my self together, I do find
    it is rather the part of a wise man, to prevent the storms of
    Fortune by stirring, than to suffer them by standing still, to pour
    themselves upon his naked body. I will about it.

    _Count._ Who's within there?

                         _Enter a Servingman._

    Let this Gentleman out at the back door, forget not my
    instructions, if you find any thing dangerous; trouble not
    your self to find out me, but carry your informations to the
    Lord _Lucio_, he is a man grave, and well experienced in these
    businesses.

    [_Int._ Your Lordships Servant.]            [_Exit Intelligencer and
    Servingman._

    _Laz._ Will it please your [worship walke]?

    _Count._ Sir I was coming, I will overtake you.

    _Laz._ I will attend you over against the Lord _Gonderinoes_ house.

    _Count._ You shall not attend there long.

    _Laz._ Thither must I to see my Loves face, the chaste
    Virgin head
    Of a dear Fish, yet pure and undeflowred,
    Not known of man no rough bred countrey hand,
    Hath once toucht thee, no Pandars withered paw,
    Nor an un-napkin'd Lawyers greasie fist,
    Hath once slubbered thee: no Ladies supple hand,
    Wash'd o'er with Urine, hath yet seiz'd on thee
    With her two nimble talents: no Court hand,
    Whom his own natural filth, or change of air,
    Hath bedeck'd with scabs, hath marr'd thy whiter grace:
    Oh let it be thought lawful then for me,
    To crop the flower of thy Virginity.              [_Exit_ Lazarello.

    _Count._ This day I am for fools, I am all theirs,
    Though like to our young wanton cocker'd heirs,
    Who do affect those men above the rest,
    In whose base company they still are best:
    I do not with much labour strive to be
    The wisest ever in the company:
    But for a fool, our wisdom oft amends,
    As enemies do teach us more than friends.             [_Exit Count._

_Actus Secundus. Scæna Prima._

                  _Enter Gondarino and his servants._

    _Serv._ My Lord:

    _Gond._ Ha!

    _Serv._ Here's one hath brought you a present.

    _Gond._ From whom? from a woman? if it be from a woman, bid him
    carrie it back, and tell her she's a whore; what is it?

    _Serv._ A Fish head my Lord.

    _Gond._ What Fish head?

    _Serv._ I did not aske that my Lord.

    _Gond._ Whence comes it?

    _Ser._ From the Court.

    _Gond._ O 'tis a Cods-head.

    _Serv._ No my Lord, 'tis some strange head, it comes from the Duke.

    _Gond._ Let it be carried to my Mercer, I doe owe him money for
    silks, stop his mouth with that.                       [_Exit Serv._

    Was there ever any man that hated his wife after death but I?
    and for her sake all women, women that were created only for the
    preservation of little dogs.

                            _Enter Servant._

    _Serv._ My Lord the Count's sister being overtaken in the streets,
    with a great hail-storm, is light at your gate, and desires [room]
    till the storm be overpast.

    _Gond._ Is she a woman?

    _Serv._ I my Lord I think so.

    _Gond._ I have none for her then: bid her get her gone, tell her
    she is not welcome.

    _Serv._ My Lord, she is now comming up.

    _Gond._ She shall not come up, tell her any thing; tell her I have
    but one great room in my house, and I am now in it at the close
    stool.

    _Serv._ She's here my Lord.

    _Gond._ O impudence of women: I can keep dogs out of my house, or I
    can defend my house against theeves, but I cannot keep out women.

             _Enter_ Oriana, _a waiting woman, and a Page_.

    Now Madam, what hath your Ladyship to say to me?

    _Oria._ My Lord, I was bold to crave the help of your house against
    the storm.

    _Gond._ Your Ladyships boldness in coming will be impudence in
    staying; for you are most unwelcome.

    _Oriana._ Oh my Lord!

    _Gond._ Doe you laugh? by the hate I bear to you, 'tis true.

    _Orian._ Y'are merry my Lord.

    _Gond._ Let me laugh to death if I be, or can be whilst thou art
    here, or livest; or any of thy sex.

    _Oriana._ I commend your Lordship.

    _Gond._ Doe you commend me? why doe you commend me? I give you no
    such cause: thou art a filthy impudent whore; a woman, a very woman.

    _Oria._ Ha, ha, ha.

    _Gond._ Begot when thy father was drunk.

    _Orian._ Your Lordship hath a good wit.

    _Gond._ How? what have I a good wit?

    _Orian._ Come my Lord, I have heard before of your Lordships merry
    vain in jesting against our Sex, which I being desirous to hear,
    made me rather choose your Lordships house, than any other, but I
    know I am welcome.

    _Gond._ Let me not live if you be: me thinks it doth not become
    you, to come to my house being a stranger to you, I have no woman
    in my house, to entertain you, nor to shew you your chamber; why
    should you come to me? I have no Galleries, nor banqueting houses,
    nor bawdy pictures to shew your Ladyship.

    _Orian._ Believe me this your Lordships plain[n]ess makes me think
    my self more welcome, than if you had sworn by all the pretty Court
    oaths that are, I had been welcomer than your soul to your body.

    _Gond._ Now she's in, talking treason will get her out, I durst
    sooner undertake to talk an Intelligencer out of the room, and
    speak more than he durst hear, than talk a woman out of my company.

                           _Enter a Servant._

    _Serv._ My Lord the Duke being in the streets, and the storm
    continuing, is entred your gate, and now coming up.

    _Gond._ The Duke! now I know your Errand Madam; you have plots and
    private meetings in hand: why doe you choose my house? are you
    asham'd to goe to't in the old coupling place, though it be less
    suspicious here; for no Christian will suspect a woman to be in
    my house? yet you may do it cleanlyer there, for there is a care
    had of those businesses; and wheresoever you remove, your great
    maintainer and you shall have your lodgings directly opposite, it
    is but putting on your night-gown, and your s[l]ippers; Madam, you
    understand me?

    _Orian._ Before I would not understand him, but now he speaks
    riddles to me indeed.

                  _Enter the Duke, Arrigo, and Lucio._

    _Duke._ 'Twas a strange hail-storm.

    _Lucio._ 'Twas exceeding strange.

    _Gond._ Good morrow to your grace.

    _Duke._ Good morrow _Gonderino_.

    _Gond._ Justice great Prince.

    _Duke._ Why should you beg for justice, I never did you wrong;
    What's the offendor?

    _Gond._ A woman.

    _Duke._ I know your ancient quarrell against that Sex; but what
    hainous crime hath she committed?

    _Gond._ She hath gone abroad.

    _Duke._ What? it cannot be.

    _Gond._ She hath done it.

    _Duke._ How? I never heard of any woman that did so before.

    _Gond._ If she have not laid by that modesty
    That should attend a Virgin, and, quite void
    Of shame, hath left the house where she was born,
    As they should never doe; let me endure
    The pains that she should suffer.

    _Duke._ Hath she so? Which is the woman?

    _Gond._ This, this.

    _Duke._ How! _Arrigo? Lucio?_

    _Gond._ I then it is a plot, no Prince alive
    Shall force me make my house a Brothell house;
    Not for the sins, but for the womans sake,
    I will not have her in my doors so long:
    Will they make my house as bawdy as their own are?

    _Duke._ Is it not _Oriana_?

    _Lucio._ 'Tis.

    _Duke._ Sister to Count _Valero_?

    _Arri._ The very same.

    _Duke._ She that I love?

    _Lucio._ She that you love.

    _Duke._ I do suspect.

    _Lucio._ So doe I.

    _Duke._ This fellow to be but a counterfeit,
    One that doth seem to loath all woman-kind,
    To hate himself, because he hath some part
    Of woman in him; seems not to endure
    To see, or to be seen of any woman,
    Only, because he knows it is their nature
    To wish to tast that which is most forbidden:
    And with this shew he may the better compass
    (And with far less suspition) his base ends.

    _Lucio._ Upon my life 'tis so.

    _Duke._ And I doe know,
    Before his slain wife gave him that offence,
    He was the greatest servant to that Sex
    That ever was: what doth this Lady here
    With him alone? why should he rail at her to me?

    _Lucio._ Because your grace might not suspect.

    _Duke._ 'Twas so: I doe love her strangely:
    I would fain know the truth: counsell me.     [_They three whisper._

                 _Enter Count, Lazarello, and his boy._

    _Count._ It falls out better than we could expect Sir, that we
    should find the Duke and my Lord _Gondarino_ together; both which
    you desire to be acquainted with.

    _Laz._ 'Twas very happy: Boy, goe down into the kitchen, and see if
    you can spy that same; I am now in some hope: I have me thinks a
    kind of fever upon me.                                  [_Exit Boy._

    A certain gloominess within me, doubting as it were, betwixt two
    passions: there is no young maid upon her wedding night, when
    her husband sets first foot in the bed, blushes, and looks pale
    again, oftner than I doe now. There is no Poet acquainted with
    more shakings and quakings, towards the latter end of [his] new
    play, when he's in that case, that he stands peeping betwixt [the]
    Curtains, so fearfully that a Bottle of Ale cannot be opened, but
    he thinks some body hisses, than I am at this instant.

    _Count._ Are they in consultation? If they be, either my young Duke
    hath gotten some Bastard, and is persuading my Knight yonder to
    father the child, and marry the wench, or else some Cock-pit is to
    be built.

    _Laz._ My Lord! what Nobleman's that?

    _Count._ His name is _Lucio_, 'tis he that was made a Lord at the
    request of some of his friends for his wives sake: he affects to
    be a great States-man, and thinks it consists in night-caps and
    jewells, and tooth-picks.

    _Laz._ And what's that other?

    _Count._ A Knight Sir, that pleaseth the Duke to favour, and to
    raise to some extraordinary fortunes, he can make as good men as
    himself, every day in the week, and doth--

    _Laz._ For what was he raised?

    _Count._ Truely Sir, I am not able to say directly, for what; But
    for wearing of red breeches as I take it; he's a brave man, he will
    spend three Knighthoods at a Supper without Trumpets.

    _Laza._ My Lord I'll talk with him, for I have a friend, that would
    gladly receive the humor.

    _Count._ If he have the itch of Knighthood upon him, let him repair
    to that Physitian, he'll cure him: but I will give you a note; is
    your friend fat or lean?

    _Laz._ Something fat.

    _Count._ 'Twill be the worse for him.

    _Laza._ I hope that's not material.

    _Count._ Very much, for there is an impost set upon Knighthoods, &
    your friend shall pay a Noble in the pound.

    _Duke._ I doe not like examinations,
    We shall find out the truth more easily,
    Some other way less noted, and that course,
    Should not be us'd, till we be sure to prove
    Some thing directly, for when they perceive
    Themselves suspected, they will then provide
    More warily to answer.

    _Luc._ Doth she know your Grace doth love her?

    _Duke._ She hath never heard it.

    _Luc._ Then thus my Lord.                            [_They whisper_

    _Laz._ What's he that walks                                 [_again_
    alone so sadly with his hands behind him?

    _Count._ The Lord of the house, he that you desire to be acquainted
    with, he doth hate women for the same cause that I love them.

    _Laz._ What's that?

    _Count._ For that which Apes want: you perceive me Sir?

    _Laz._ And is he sad? Can he be sad that hath so rich a gem under
    his roof, as that which I doe follow. What young Lady's that?

    _Count._ Which? Have I mine eye-sight perfect, 'tis my sister:
    did I say the Duke had a Bastard? What should she make here with
    him and his Councell? She hath no papers in her hand to petition
    to them, she hath never a husband in prison, whose release she
    might sue for: That's a fine trick for a wench; to get her husband
    clapt up, that she may more freely, and with less suspition, visit
    the private studies of men in authority. Now I doe discover their
    consultation, yon fellow is a Pander without all salvation: But let
    me not condemn her too rashly without weighing the matter; she's a
    young Lady, she went forth early this morning with a waiting woman,
    and a Page, or so: This is no garden house; in my conscience she
    went forth with no dishonest intent: for she did not pretend going
    to any Sermon in the further end of the City: Neither went she
    to see any odd old Gentlewoman, that mourns for the death of her
    husband, or the loss of her friend, and must have young Ladys come
    to comfort her: those are the damnable Bawds: 'Twas no set meeting
    certainly; for there was no wafer-woman with her these three days
    on my knowledge: I'll talk with her; Good morrow my Lord.

    _Gond._ Y'are welcome Sir: here's her brother come now to doe a
    kind office for his sister; is it not strange?

    _Count._ I am glad to meet you here sister.

    _Orian._ I thank you good brother: and if you doubt of the cause of
    my coming I can satisfie you.

    _Count._ No faith, I dare trust thee, I doe suspect thou art
    honest; for it is so rare a thing to be honest amongst you, that
    some one man in an age, may perhaps suspect some two women to be
    honest, but never believe it verily.

    _Luci._ Let your return be suddain.

    _Arri._ U[n]suspected by them.

    _Duke._ It shall; so shall I best perceive their Love, if there be
    any; Farewell.

    _Count._ Let me entreat your grace to stay a little,
    To know a gentleman, to whom your self
    Is much beholding; he hath made the sport
    For your whole Court these eight years, on my knowledge.

    _Duke._ His name?

    _Count. Lazarello._

    _Duke._ I heard of him this morning, which is he?

    _Count. Lazarello_, pluck up thy spirits, thy [Fortuns are] now
    raising, the Duke calls for thee, and thou shalt be acquainted with
    him.

    _Laz._ He's going away, and I must of necessity stay here upon
    business.

    _Count._ 'Tis all one, thou shalt know him first.

    _Laz._ Stay a little, if he should offer to take me away with him,
    and by that means I should loose that I seek for; but if he should
    I will not goe with him.

    _Count. Lazarello_, the Duke stayes, wilt thou lose this
    opportunity?

    _Laz._ How must I speak to him?

    _Count._ 'Twas well thought of: you must not talk to him as you doe
    to an ordinary man, honest plain sence, but you must wind about
    him: for example, if he should aske you what a clock it is, you
    must not say; If it please your grace 'tis nine; but thus; thrice
    three a clock, so please my Sovereign: or thus;

    Look how many Muses there doth dwell
    Upon the sweet banks of the learned Well;
    And just so many stroaks the clock hath struck,
    And so forth; And you must now and then enter into a description.

    _Laz._ I hope I shall doe it.

    _Count._ Come: May it please your grace to take note of a
    Gentleman, wel seen, deeply read, and throughly grounded in the
    hidden knowledge of all sallets and potherbs whatsoever.

    _Duke._ I shall desire to know him more inwardly.

    _Laz._ I kiss the Oxe-hide of your graces foot.

    _Count._ Very well: will your grace question him a little?

    _Duke._ How old are you?

    _Laz._ Full eight and twenty several Almanacks
    Have been compiled, all for several years
    Since first I drew this breath, four prentiships
    Have I most truely served in this world:
    And eight and twenty times hath _Phœbus_ Car
    Run out his yearly course since.

    _Duke._ I understand you Sir.

    _Luci._ How like an ignorant Poet he talks.

    _Duke._ You are eight and twenty year[e] old? what time of the day
    doe you hold it to be?

    _Laz._ About the time that mortals whet their knives
    On thresholds, on their shooe sol[e]s, and on stairs,
    New bread is grating, and the testy Cook
    Hath much to doe now, now the Tables all.

    _Duk._ 'Tis almost dinner time?

    _Laz._ Your grace doth apprehend me very rightly.

    _Count._ Your grace shall find him in your further conference
    Grave, wise, courtly, and scholar like, understandingly read
    In the necessities of the life of man.
    He knows that man is mortal by his birth;
    He knows that man must dye, and therefore live;
    He knows that [man] must live, and therefore eat,

    And if it shall please your grace, to accompany your self with
    him, I doubt not, but that he will, at the least, make good my
    commendations.

    _Duk._ Attend us _Lazarello_, we doe want
    Men of such Action, as we have received you
    Reported from your honorable friend.

    _Laza._ Good my Lord stand betwixt me and my overthrow, you know
    I'm ti'd here, and may not depart, my gracious Lord, so waightie
    are the businesses of mine own, which at this time do call upon me,
    that I will rather chuse to die, than to neglect them.

    _Count._ Nay you shall [well] perceive, besides the virtues that I
    have alreadie inform'd you of, he hath a stomach which will stoop
    to no Prince alive.

    _Duk._ Sir at your best leisure, I shall thirst to see you.

    _Laza._ And I shall hunger for it.

    _Duk._ Till then farewell all.

    _Gon. Count._ Long life attend your Grace.

    _Duk._ I doe not tast this sport, _Arrigo, Lucio._

    _Arrigo. Luci._ We doe attend.        [_Exeunt Duke, Arrigo, Lucio._

    _Gond._ His grace is gone, and hath left his _Hellen_ with me, I'm
    no pander for him, neither can I be won with the hope of gain, or
    the itching desire of tasting my Lords lecherie to him, to keep her
    at (my house) or bring her in disguise, to his bed Chamber.

    The twyns of Adders, and of Scorpions
    About my naked brest, will seem to me
    More tickling than those claspes, which men adore;
    The lustfull, dull, ill spirited embraces
    Of women; The much praysed _Amazones_,
    Knowing their own infirmities so well,
    Made of themselves a people, and what men
    They take amongst them, they condemne to die,
    Perceiving that their folly made them fit
    To live no longer that would willingly
    Come in the worthless presence of a woman.
    I will attend, and see what my young Lord will doe with his sister.

                        _Enter Lazarilloes Boy._

    _Boy._ My Lord; The fish head is gone again.

    _Count._ W[h]ither?

    _Boy._ I know whither my Lord.

    _Count._ Keep it from _Lazarillo_: Sister shall I confer with you
    in private, to know the cause of the Dukes coming hither, I know he
    makes you acquainted with his business of State.

    _Oria._ I'll satisfie you brother, for I see you are jealous of me.

    _Gond._ Now there shall be some course taken for her conveiance.

    _Laza. Lazarillo_, thou art happy, thy carriage hath begot love,
    and that love hath brought forth fruits; thou art here in the
    company of a man honorable, that will help thee to tast of the
    bounties of the Sea, and when thou hast so done thou shalt retire
    thy self unto the court, and there tast of the delicates of the
    earth, and be great in the eyes of thy Soveraign: now no more shalt
    thou need to scramble for thy meat, nor remove thy stomach with
    the Court; But thy credit shall command thy hearts desire, and all
    novelties shall be sent as presents unto thee.

    _Count._ Good Sister, when you see your own time, wil[l] you return
    home.

    _Oria._ Yes brother, and not before.

    _Laza._ I will grow popular in this State, and overthrow the
    fortunes of a number, that live by extortion.

    _Count. Lazarello_, bestirr thy self nimbly and sodainly, and
    hear me with patience [to hear].

    _Laza._ Let me not fall from my self; Speak I'm bound.

    _Count._ So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear the fish head
    is gone, and we know not whither.

    _Laza._ I will not curse, nor swear, nor rage, nor rail,
    Nor with contemptuous tongue, accuse my Fate;
    Though I might justly doe it, nor will I
    Wish my self uncreated for this evil:
    Shall I entreat your Lordship to be seen
    A little longer in the company
    Of a man cross'd by Fortune?

    _Count._ I hate to leave my friend in his extremities.

    _Laza._ 'Tis noble in you, then I take your hand,
    And doe protest, I doe not follow this
    For any malice or for private ends,
    But with a love, as gentle and as chast,
    As that a brother to his sister bears:
    And if I see this fish head yet unknown;
    The last words that my dying father spake,
    Before his eye strings brake, shall not of me
    So often be remembred, as our meeting:
    Fortune attend me, as my ends are just,
    Full of pure love, and free from servile lust.

    _Count._ Farwell my Lord, I was entreated to invite your Lordship
    to a Lady's upsiting.

    _Gond._ O my ears, why Madam, will not you follow your brother? you
    are waited for by great men, heel bring you to him.

    _Oria._ I'm very well my Lord, you doe mistake me, if you think I
    affect greater company than your self.

    _Gond._ What madness possesseth thee, that thou canst imagine me a
    fit man to entertain [Ladies]; I tell thee, I doe use to tear their
    hair, to kick them, and [to] twindge their noses, if they be not
    carefull in avoiding me.

    _Oria._ Your Lordship may discant upon your own behavior as please
    you, but I protest, so sweet and courtly it appeares in my eye,
    that I mean not to leave you yet.

    _[Go]nd._ I shall grow rough.

    _Oria._ A rough carriage is best in a man,
    I'll dine with you my Lord.

    _Gond._ Why I will starve thee, thou shalt have nothing.

    _Oria._ I have heard of your Lordships nothing, I'll put that to
    the venture.

    _Gond._ Well thou shalt have meat, I'll send it to thee.

    _Oria._ I'll keep no state my Lord, neither doe I mourn, I'll dine
    with you.

    _Gond._ Is such a thin[g] as this allowed to live?
    What power hath let the[e] loose upon the earth
    To plague us for our Sins? Out of my doors.

    _Oria._ I would your Lordship did but see how well
    This fury doth become you, it doth shew
    So neer the life, as it were natural.

    _Gond._ O thou damn'd woman, I will flie the vengeance
    That hangs above thee, follow if thou dar'st.     [_Exit Gondarino._

    _Oria._ I must not leave this fellow, I will torment him to madness,
    To teach his passions against kind to move,
    The more he hates, the more I'll seem to love.

                                              [_Exeunt Oriana and Maid._

                  _Enter Pandar and Mercer a citizen._

    _Pand._ Sir, what may be done by art shall be done, I wear no[t]
    this black cloak for nothing.

    _Mer._ Perform this, help me to this great heir by learning, and
    you shall want no black cloaks; taffaties, silkgrogra[m]s, sattins
    and velvets are mine, they shall be yours; perform what you have
    promis'd, and you shall make me a lover of Sciences, I will study
    the learned languages, and keep my shop-book in Latine.

    _Pand._ Trouble me not now, I will not fail you within this hour at
    your shop.

    _Mer._ Let Art have her course.                      [_Exit Mercer._

                           _Enter Curtezan._

    _Pand._ 'Tis well spoken, _Madona_.

    _Mad._ Hast thou brought me any customers.

    _Pan._ No.

    _Ma._ What the devil do'st thou in black?

    _Pa._ As all solemn professors of setled courses, doe cover my
    knavery with it: will you marry a citizen; Reasonably rich, and
    unreasonably foolish, silks in his shop, mony in his purse, and no
    wit in his head?

    _Ma._ Out upon him, I could have [bin] otherwise than so, there was
    a Knight swore he would have had me, if I would have lent him but
    forty shillings to have redeem'd his cloak, to goe to Church in.

    _Pan._ Then your wastcote wayter shall have him, call her in!

    _Ma. Francessina!_

    _Fr._ Anon!

    _Ma._ Get you to the Church, and shrive your self,
    For you shall be richly marryed anon.

    _Pan._ And get you after her, I will work upon my citizen whilst
    he is warm, I must not suffer him to consult with his neighbours,
    the openest fools are hardly cousened, if they once grow jealous.
    [_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scæna Prima._

                   _Enter Gondarino flying the Lady._

    _Gond._ Save me ye better powers, let me not fall
    Between the lo[o]se embracements of a woman:
    Heaven, if my Sins be ripe grown to a head,
    And must attend your vengeance: I beg not to divert my fate,
    Or to reprive a while thy punishment
    Only I crave, and hear me equall heavens,
    Let not your furious rod, that must afflict me
    Be that imperfect peece of nature,
    That art makes up, woman, unsatiate woman.
    Had we not knowing souls, at first infus'd
    To teach a difference, 'twixt extremes and goods?
    Were we not made our selves, free, unconfin'd
    Commanders of our own affections?
    And can it be, that this most perfect creature,
    This image of his maker, well squar'd man,
    Should leave the handfast, that he had of grace,
    To fall into a womans easie armes.

                            _Enter Oriana._

    _Orian._ Now _Venus_, be my speed, inspire me with all the severall
    subtil temptations, that thou hast already given, or hast in store
    heareafter to bestow upon our Sex: grant that I may apply that
    Physick that is most apt to work upon him: whether he will soonest
    be mov'd with wantonness, singing, dancing; or being passionate,
    with scorn; or with sad and serious looks, cunningly mingled with
    sighs, with smiling, lisping, kissing the hand, and making short
    curt'sies, Or with whatsoever other nimble power, he may be caught,
    doe thou infuse into me, and when I have him, I will sacrifice him
    up to thee.

    _Gond._ It comes again; New apparitions,
    And tempting spirits: Stand and reveal thy self,
    Tell why thou followest me! I fear thee
    As I fear the place thou cam'st from: Hell.

    _Orian._ My Lord, I 'm a woman, and such a one--

    _Gond._ That I hate truely, thou hadst better bin a devill.

    _Orian._ Why my unpatient Lord?

    _Gond._ Devils were once good, there they excell'd you wom[e]n.

    _Orian._ Can ye be so uneasie, can ye freeze, and
    Such a summers heat so ready
    To dissolve? nay gentle Lord, turn not away in scorn,
    Nor hold me less fair than I am: look on these cheeks,
    They have yet enough of nature, true complexion,
    If to be red and white, a forehead high,
    An easie melting lip, a speaking eye,
    And such a tongue, whose language takes the ear
    Of strict religion, and men most austere:
    If these may hope to please, look here.

    _Gond._ This woman with entreaty wo'd show all,
    Lady there lies your way, I pray ye farewell.

    _Orian._ Y'are yet too harsh, too dissonant,
    There's no true musick in your words, my Lord.

    _Gond._ What shall I give thee to be gone?

    Here's ta, and tha wants lodging, take my house, 'tis big enough,
    'tis thine own, 'twill hold five leacherous Lords, and their
    lackies without discovery: there's stoves and bathing tubs.

    _Orian._ Dear Lord: y'are too wild.

    _Gond._ Shalt have a Doctor too, thou shalt, 'bout six and twentie,
    'tis a pleasing age; Or I can help thee to a handsome Usher: or if
    thou lack'st a page, I'll give thee one, preethee keep house, and
    leave me.

    _Oria._ I doe confess I'm too easie, too much woman,
    Not coy enough to take affection,
    Yet I can frown and nip a passion,
    Even in the bud: I can say
    Men please their present heats; Then please to leave us.
    I can hold off, and, by my Chymick power,
    Draw Sonnets from the melting lovers brain;
    _Ayme's_, and _Elegies_: yet to you my Lord
    My Love, my better self, I put these off,
    Doing that office, not befits our sex,
    Entreat a man to love;
    Are ye not yet relenting? ha'ye blood and Spirit
    In those veins? ye are no image, though ye be as hard
    As marble: sure ye have no liver, if ye had,
    'Twould send a lively and desiring heat
    To every member; Is not this miserable?
    A thing so truely form'd, shapt out by Symetry,
    Has all the organs that belong to man,
    And working too, yet to shew all these
    Like dead motions moving upon wyers?
    Then good my Lord, leave off what you have been,
    And freely be what you were first intended for, a man.

    _Gond._ Thou art a precious peece of slie damnation,
    I will be deaf, I will lock up my ears,
    Tempt me not, I will not love; If I doe.

    _Oria._ Then I'll hate you.

    _Gond._ Let me be 'nointed with hony, and turn'd into the Sun,
    To be stung to death with horse-flies,
    Hear'st thou, thou breeder, here I'll sit,
    And, in despight of thee, I will say nothing.

    _Oria._ Let me with your fair patience, sit beside you.

    _Gond._ Madam, Lady, tempter, tongue, woman, ayr.
    Look to me, I shall kick; I say again,
    Look to me I shall kick.

    _Oria._ I cannot think your better knowledg[e] can use a woman so
    uncivilly.

    _Gond._ I cannot think, I shall become a coxcombe,
    To ha'my hair curl'd, by an idle finger,
    My cheeks turn Tabers, and be plaid upon,
    Mine eyes lookt babies in, and my nose blowd to my hand,
    I say again I shall kick, sure I shall.

    _Oria._ 'Tis but your outside that you shew, I know your mind
    Never was guilty of so great a weakness,
    Or could the to[n]gues of all men joyn'd together.
    Possess me with a thought of your dislike
    My weakness were above a womans, to fall off
    From my affection, for one crack of thunder,
    O wo'd you could love, my Lord.

    _Gond._ I wo'd thou wouldst sit still, and say nothing: what
    mad-man let thee lo[o]se to do more mischief than a dousen
    whirlwinds, keep thy hands in thy muff, and warm the idle worms in
    thy fingers ends: will ye be doing still? will no entreating serve
    ye? no lawfull warning? I must remove and leave your Ladyship; Nay
    never hope to stay me, for I will run, from that Smooth, Smiling,
    Witching, Cousening, Tempting, Damning face of thine, as far as I
    can find any land, where I will put my self into a daily course of
    Curses for thee, and all thy Familie.

    _Oria._ Nay good my Lord sit still, I'll promise peace
    And fold mine Armes up, let but mine eye discourse;
    Or let my voyce, set to some pleasing cord, sound out
    The sullen strains of my neglected love.

    _Gond._ Sing till thou crack thy treble-string in peeces,
    And when thou hast done, put up thy pipes and walk,
    Doe any thing, sit still and tempt me not.

    _Oria._ I had rather sing at doors for bread, than sing to this
    fellow, but for hate: if this should be told in the Court, that I
    begin to woe Lords, what a troop of the untrust nobilitie should I
    have at my lodging to morrow morning.

                      SONG.

    _Come sleep, and with th[y] sweet deceiving,_
    _Lock me in delight a while,_
    _Let some pleasing Dreams beguile_
    _All my fancies; That from thence,_
    _I may feel an influence,_
    _All my powers of care bereaving._
    _Though but a shadow, but a sliding,_
    _Let me know some little Joy,_
    _We that suffer long anoy_
    _Are contented with a thought_
    _Through an idle fancie wrought_
    _O let my joyes, have some abiding._

    _Gond._ Have you done your wassayl? 'tis a handsome drowsie dittie
    I'll assure ye, now I had as leave hear a Cat cry, when her tail
    is cut off, as hear these lamentations, these lowsie love-layes,
    these bewailements: you think you have caught me Lady, you think I
    melt now, like a dish of May butter, and run, all into brine, and
    passion, yes, yes, I 'm taken, look how I cross my arms, look pale,
    and dwyndle, and wo'd cry, but for spoyling my face; we must part,
    nay we'll avoyd all Ceremony, no kissing Lady, I desire to know
    your Ladiship no more; death of my soul the Duke!

    _Oria._ God keep your Lordship.

    _Gond._ From thee and all thy sex.

    _Oria._ I'll be the Clark, and crie, _Amen_,
    Your Lordships ever assured enemie _Oriana_.

                                       [_Exit. Oriana, Manet Gondarino._

_Actius Tertius. Scæna Secunda._

                      _Enter Duke, Arrigo, Lucia._

    _Gond._ All the days good, attend your Lordship.

    _Duk._ We thank you _Gondarino_, is it possible?
    Can belief lay hold on such a miracle,
    To see thee, one that hath cloyst'red up all passion,
    Turn'd wilfull votary, and forsworn converse with women, in
    company and fair discourse, with the best beauty of _Millain_?

    _Gon._ 'Tis true, and if your Grace that hath the sway
    Of the whole State, will suffer this lude sex,
    These women, to pursue us to our homes,
    Not to be prayd, no[r] to be rail'd away,
    But they will woe, and dance, and sing,
    And, in a manner, looser than they are
    By nature (which should seem impossible)
    To throw their armes, on our unwilling necks.

    _Duk._ No more, I can see through your vissore, dissemble it no more.
    Doe not I know thou hast us'd all Art,
    To work upon the poor simplicitie
    Of this yong Maid, that yet hath known none ill?
    Thinkest that damnation will fright those that wooe
    From oaths, and lies? But yet I think her chast,
    And will from thee, before thou shalt apply
    Stronger temptations, bear her hence with me.

    _Gond._ My Lord, I speak not this to gain new grace,
    But howsoever you esteeme my words,
    My love and dutie will not suffer me
    To see you favour such a prostitute,
    And I stand by dumb; Without Rack, Torture,
    Or Strappado, I[le] unrip my self:

    I doe confess I was in company with that pleasing peece of
    frailtie, that we call woman; I doe confess after a long and
    tedious seige, I yielded.

    _Duke._ Forward.

    _Gond._ Faith my Lord to come quickly to the point, the woman you
    saw with me is a whore; An arrant whore.

    _Duke._ Was she not Count _Valores_ Sister?

    _Gond._ Yes, that Count _Valores_ Sister is naught.

    _Duk._ Thou dar'st not say so.

    _Gond._ Not if it be distasting to your Lordship, but give me
    freedome, and I dare maintain, she ha's imbrac'd this body, and
    grown to it as close, as the hot youthfull vine to the elme.

    _Duk._ Twice have I seen her with thee, twice my thoughts were
    prompted by mine eye, to hold thy strictness false and imposterous:
    Is this your mewing up, your strict retirement, your bitterness
    and gaul against that sex? Have I not heard thee say, thou wouldst
    sooner meet the _Basilisks_ dead doing eye, than meet a woman for
    an object? Look it be true you tell me, or by our countries Saint
    your head goes off: if thou prove a whore, no womans face shall
    ever move me more.                       [_Exeunt. Manet Gondarino._

    _Gond._ So, so, 'tis as 't should be, are women grown so mankind?
    Must they be wooing, I have a plot shall blow her up, she flyes,
    she mounts; I'll teach her Ladyship to dare my fury, I will be
    known, and fear'd, and more truely hated of women than an Eunuch.

                            _Enter Oriana._

    She's here again, good gaul be patient, for I must dissemble.

    _Orian._ Now my cold, frosty Lord, my woman-Hater, you that have
    sworn an everlasting hate to all our sex: by my troth good Lord,
    and as I'm yet a maid, my thought 'twas excellent sport to hear
    your honor swear out an Alphabet, chafe nobly like a Generall, kick
    like a resty Jade, and make ill faces: Did your good Honor think I
    was in love? where did I first begin to take that heat? From those
    two radiant eyes, that piercing sight? oh they were lovely, if the
    balls stood right; and there's a leg made out of a dainty staff.
    Where, the Gods be thanked, there is calf enough.

    _Gond._ Pardon him Lady, that is now a convert[ite].
    Your beauty, like a Saint hath wrought this wonder.

    _Oriana._ Alass, ha's it been prick'd at the heart? is the stomach
    come down? will it rail no more at women, and call 'em Divells, she
    Cats, and Goblins?

    _Gond._ He that shall marry thee, had better spend the poor
    remainder of his days in a dung-barge, for two pence a week, and
    find him self.

    Down again Spleen, I prethee down again, shall I find favour Lady?
    shall at length my true unfeigned penitence get pardon for my harsh
    unseasoned follies? I'm no more an Atheist, no I doe acknowledge,
    that dread powerfull Deity, and his all quic'kning heats burn in
    my breast: oh be not as I was, hard unrelenting; but as I [am], be
    partner of my fires.

    _Oria._ Sure we [shall] have store of Larks, the Skies will not
    hold up long, I should have look'd as soon for Frost in the dog
    days, or another Inundation, as hop'd this strange conversion above
    miracle: let me look upon your Lordship; is your name _Gondarino_?
    are you _Millains_ Generall, that great Bugbear bloody-bones, at
    whose name all women, from the Lady to the Landress, shake like a
    cold fit?

    _Gond._ Good patience help me, this Fever will inrage my blood
    again: Madam I'm that man; I'm even he that once did owe
    unreconcil'd hate to you, and all that bear the name of woman: I'm
    the man that wrong'd your Honor to the Duke: [I am hee] that said
    you were unchast, and prostitute, yet I'm he that dare deny all
    this.

    _Orian._ Your big Nobility is very merry.

    _Gond._ Lady 'tis true that I have wrong'd you thus,
    And my contritio[n] is as true as that,
    Yet have I found a means to make all good again,
    I doe beseech your beautie, not for my self,
    My merits are yet in conception,
    But for your honors safety and my zeal
    Retire a while, while I unsay my self unto the Duke,
    And cast out that [evill] Spirit I have possest him with,
    I have a house conveniently private.

    _Ori._ Lord, thou hast wrong'd my innocence, but thy confession
    hath gain'd thee faith.

    _Gond._ By the true honest service, that I owe th[o]se eyes
    My meaning is as spotless as my faith.

    _Oria._ The Duke doubt mine honor? a may judge [strangely,]
    'Twill not be long, before I'll be enlarg'd again.

    _Gond._ A day or two.

    _Orian._ Mine own servants shall attend me.

    _Gond._ Your Ladyships command is good.

    _Orian._ Look you be true.                           [_Exit Oriana._

    _Gond._ Else let me lose the hopes my soul aspires to: I will be
    a scourge to all females in my life, and after my death, the name
    of _Gondarino_ shall be terrible to the mighty women of the earth;
    They shall shake at my name, and at the sound of it, their knees
    shall knock together; And they shall run into Nunneries, for they
    and I are beyond all hope irreconcilable: for if I could endure an
    ear with a hole in't, or a pleated lock, or a bare headed Coachman,
    that sits like a sign where great Lad[ie]s are to be sold within;
    agreement betwixt us, were not to be dispaired of; if I could be
    but brought to endure to see women, I would have them come all once
    a week, and kiss me, [where] Witches doe the devill, in token of
    homage: I must not live here; I will to the Court, and there pursue
    my plot; when it hath took, women shall stand in awe, but of my
    look.                                                       [_Exit._

_Actus Tertius. Scæna Tertia._

         _Enter two Intelligencers, discovering treason in the_
                           _Courtiers words._

    _1 Intel._ There take your standing, be close and vigilant, here
    will I set my self, and let him look to his language, a shall know
    the Duke has more ears in Court than two.

    _2 Int._ I'll quote him to a tittle, let him speak wisely, and
    plainly, and as hidden as a can, or I shall crush him, a shall not
    scape charracters, though a speak Babel, I shall crush him: we have
    a Fortune by this service hanging over us, that within this year
    or two, I hope we shall be called to be examiners, wear politick
    gowns garded with copper lace, making great faces full of fear and
    office, our labors may deserve this.

    _1 Int._ I hope it shall: why has not many men been raised from
    this worming trade, first to gain good access to great men, then to
    have commissions out for search, and lastly, to be worthily nam'd
    at a great Arraignment: yes, and why not we? They that endeavor
    well deserve their Fee. Close, close, a comes: mark well, and all
    goes well.

                 _Enter Count, Lazarello, and his Boy._

    _Laz._ Farewell my hopes, my Anchor now is broken,
    Farewell my _quondam_ joys, of which no token
    Is now remaining, such is the sad mischance,
    Where Lady Fortune leads the slipp'ry dance.
    Yet at the length, let me this favour have,
    Give me my wishes, or a wished grave.

    _Count._ The gods defend so brave and valiant maw,
    Should slip into the never satiate jaw
    Of black Despair; no, thou shalt live and know
    Thy full desires, hunger thy ancient foe,
    Shall be subdued; those guts that daily tumble
    Through ayr and appetite, shall cease to rumble:
    And thou shalt now at length obtain thy dish,
    That noble part, the sweet head of a fish.

    _Laz._ Then am I greater than the Duke.

    _2 Int._ There, there's a notable peece of treason, greater than
    the Duke, mark that.

    _Count._ But how, or where, or when this shall be compas'd, is yet
    out of my reach.

    _Laz._ I am so truely miserable, that might
    I be now knockt oth' head, with all my heart
    I would forgive a dog-killer.

    _Count._ Yet doe I see through this confusedness some little com[f]ort.

    _Laz._ The plot my Lord, as er'e you came of a woman, discover.

    _1 Int._ Plots, dangerous plots, I will deserve by this most liberally.

    _Count._ 'Tis from my head again.

    _Laz._ O that it would stand me, that I might fight, or have
    some venture for it, that I might be turn'd loose, to try my
    fortune amongst the whole frie in a Colledge, or an Inn of
    Court; or scramble with the prisoners in the dungeon; nay
    were it set down in the [owter] court,
    And all the Guard about it in a ring,
    With their knives drawn, which were a dismall sight,
    And after twenty leisurely were told,
    I to be let loose only in my shirt,
    To trie the valour, how much of the spoyl,
    I would recover from the enemies mouths:
    [I would accept the challenge.

    _Count._ Let it go: hast not thou beene held
    To have some wit in the Court, and to make fine jests]
    Upon country people in progress time, and
    Wilt thou lose this opinion, for the cold head of a Fish?
    I say, let it goe: I'll help thee to as good a dish of meat.

    _Laz._ God let me not live, if I doe not wonder,
    Men should talk so profanely:
    But it is not in the power of loose words,
    Of any vain or misbeleeving man,
    To make me dare to wrong thy purity.
    Shew me but any Lady in the Court,
    That hath so full an eye, so sweet a breath,
    So soft and white a flesh: this doth not lie
    In almond gloves, nor ever hath bin washt
    In artificiall baths: no traveller
    That hath brought doctor home with him, hath dar'd
    With all his waters, powders, Fucusses,
    To make thy lovely corps sophisticate.

    _Count._ I have it, 'tis now infus'd, be comforted.

    _Laz._ Can there be that little hope yet left in nature? shall I
    once more erect up Trophies? Shall I enjoy the sight of my dear
    Saint, and bless my pallate with the best of creatures, ah good my
    Lord, by whom I breathe again, shall I receive this Being?

    _Count._ Sir I have found by certain calculation, and setled
    revolution of the stars, the Fish is sent by the Lord _Gondarino_
    to his Mercer, now 'tis a growing hope to know where 'tis.

    _Laz._ O 'tis far above the good of women, the _Pathick_ cannot
    yield more pleasing titilation.

    _Count._ But how to compass it, search, cast about, and bang your
    brai[n]s, _Lazarello_, thou art too dull and heavy to deserve a
    blessing.

    _Laz._ My Lord, I will not be idle; now _Lazarello_, think, think,
    think.

    _Count._ Yonder's my informer
    And his fellow with table books, they nod at me
    Upon my life, they have poor _Lazarello_, that beats
    His brains about no such waighty matter, in for
    Treason before this--

    _Laz._ My Lord, what doe you think, if I should shave my self,
    Put on midwives apparell, come in with a hand-kercher,
    And beg a piece for a great bellied woman, or a sick child?

    _Count._ Good, very good.

    _Laz._ Or corrupt the waiting prentise to betray the reversion.

    _1 Inte._ There's another point in's plot, [corrupt] with money; to
    betray: sure 'tis some Fort a means: mark, have a care.

    _Laz._ And 'twere the bare vinegar 'tis eaten with, it would in
    some sort satisfie nature: but might I once attain the dish it
    self, though I cut out my means through sword[s] and fire, through
    poison, through any thing that may make good my hopes.

    _2 Int._ Thanks to the gods, and our officiousness, the plots
    discover'd, fire, steel, and poison, burn the Palace, kill the Duke
    and poison his privie Councell.

    _Count._ To the mercers, let me see: how, if before we can attain
    the means, to make up our acquaintance, the fish be eaten?

    _Laz._ If it be eaten, here he stands, that is the most dejected,
    most unfortunate, miserable, accursed, forsaken slave this Province
    yields: I will not sure outlive it, no I will dye bravely, and like
    a Roman; and after death, amidst the Elizian shades, I'll meet my
    love again.

    _1 In._ I will dye bravely, like a Roman: have a care, mark that,
    when he hath done all, he will kill himself.

    _Count._ Will nothing ease your appetite but this?

    _Laz._ No could the Sea throw up his vastness,
    And offer free his best inhabitants: 'twere not so much as
    a bare temptation to me.

    _Count._ If you could be drawn to affect Beef, Venison,
    or Fowl, 'twould be far the better.

    _Laza._ I doe beseech your Lordships patience,
    I doe confess that in this heat of blood,
    I have contemn'd all dull and grosser meats,
    But I protest I doe honor a Chine of Beef,
    I doe reverence a loyn of Veal,
    But good my Lord, give me leave a little to adore this:
    But my good Lord, would your Lordship, under color of
    taking up some silks, goe to the Mercers, I would in all
    humilitie attend your honor, where we may be invited, if
    Fortune stand propitious.

    _Count._ Sir you shall work me as you please.

    _Laza._ Let it be suddenly, I doe beseech your Lordship, 'tis now
    upon the point of dinner time.

    _Count._ I am all yours.              [_Exeunt Lazarello and Count._

    _1 In._ Come let us confer, Imprimis he saith, like a blasphemous
    villain, he's greater than the Duke, this peppers him, and there
    were nothing else.

    _2 In._ Then he was naming plots; did you not hear?

    _1 In._ Yes but he fell from that unto discovery, to corrupt by
    money, and so attain.

    _2 In._ I, I, he meant some Fort, or Cyttadell the Duke hath, his
    very face betraid his meaning, O he is [a] very subtile and a
    dangerous knave, but if he deal a Gods name, we shall worm him.

    _1 In._ But now comes the Stroak, the fatall blow, Fire, Sword and
    Poyson, O Canibal, thou bloody Canibal.

    _2 In._ What had become of this poor state, had [not we] been?

    _1 In._ Faith it had lyen buried in his own ashes; had not a
    greater hand been in't.

    _2 In._ But note the rascalls resolution, after th'acts done,
    because he wo'd avoid all fear of torture, and cousen the Law, he
    wo'd kill himself; was there ever the like danger brought to light
    in this age? sure we shall merit much, we shall be able to keep
    two men a peece, and a two handsword between us, we will live in
    favour of the State, betray our ten or twelve treasons a week, and
    the people shall fear us: come, to the Lord _Lucio_, the Sun shall
    not goe down till he be hang'd.                           [_Exeunt._

_Actus Tertius. Scæna Quarta._

                            _Enter Mercer._

    _Mer._ Look to my shop, and if there come ever a Scholar in black,
    let him speak with me; we that are shopkeepers in good trade, are
    so pester'd, that we can scarce pick out an hour for our mornings
    meditation: and howsoever we are all accounted dull, and common
    jesting stocks for your gallants; There are some of us doe not
    deserve it: for, for my own part, I doe begin to be given to my
    book, I love a scholar with my heart, for questionless there are
    merveilous things to be done by Art: why Sir, some of them will
    tell you what is become of horses, and silver spoons, and will make
    wenches dance naked to their beds: I am yet unmarried, and because
    some of our neighbours are said to be Cuckolds, I will never
    [marrie] without the consent of some of these scholars, that know
    what will come of it.

                            _Enter Pander._

    _Pan._ Are you busie Sir?

    _Mer._ Never to you Sir, nor to any of your coat. Sir is there any
    thing to be done by Art, concerning the great heir we talk'd on?

    _Pan._ Will she, nill she: she shall come running into my house at
    the farther corner, in Sa. Marks street, betwixt three and four.

    _Mer._ Betwixt three and four? she's brave in cloaths, is she not?

    _Pan._ O rich! rich! where should I get cloaths to dress her in?
    Help me invention: Sir, that her running through the street may
    be less noted, my Art more shown, and your fear to speak with her
    less, she shall come in a white wastcoat, And--

    _Mer._ What shall she?

    _Pan._ And perhaps torn stockings, she hath left her old wont else.

                           _Enter Prentice._

    _Pren._ Sir my Lord _Gond._ hath sent you a rare fish head.

    _Mer._ It comes right, all things sute right with me since I began
    to love scholars, you shall have it home with you against she come:
    carrie it to this Gentleman's house.

    _Pan._ The fair white house at the farther corner at S. Marks
    street, make haste, I must leave you too Sir, I have two hours to
    study; buy a new Accedence, and ply your book, and you shall want
    nothing that all the scholars in the Town can doe for you.    [_Exit
    Pander._

    _Mer._ Heaven prosper both our studies, what a dull slave was I
    before I fell in love with this learning! not worthy to tread upon
    the earth, & what fresh hopes it hath put in to me! I doe hope
    within this twelve-month to be able by Art to serve the Court with
    silks, and not undoe my self; to trust Knights, and yet get in my
    money again; to keep my wife brave, and yet she keep no body else
    so.

                     _Enter Count, and Lazarello._

    Your Lordship is most honourably welcome in regard of your
    Nobility; but most especialy in regard of your scholarship: did
    your Lordship come openly?

    _Count._ Sir this cloak keeps me private, besides no man will
    suspect me to be in the company of this Gentleman, with whom, I
    will desire you to be acquainted, he may prove a good customer to
    you.

    _Laza._ For plain silks and velvets.

    _Mer._ Are you scholasticall?

    _Laza._ Something addicted to the Muses.

    _Count._ I hope they will not dispute.

    _Mer._ You have no skill in the black Art.

                          _Enter a Prentice._

    _Pren._ Sir yonder's a Gentleman enquires hastily for Count
    _Valore_.

    _Count._ For me? what is he?

    _Pren._ One of your followers my Lord I think.

    _Count._ Let him come in.

    _Mer._ Shall I talk with you in private Sir?

       _Enter a Messenger with a Letter to the Count, he reads._

    _Count._ Count, _come to the Court your business calls you
    thither_, I will goe, farewell Sir, I will see your silks some
    other time: Farewell _Lazarillo_.

    _Mer._ Will not your Lordship take a piece of Beef with me?

    _Count._ Sir I have greater business than eating; I will leave this
    Gentleman with you.                          [_Exeunt Count. & Mes._

    _Laza._ No, no, no, no: now doe I feel that strain'd strugling
    within me, that I think I could prophesie.

    _Mer._ The Gentleman is meditating.

    _Laza._ Hunger, valour, love, ambition are alike pleasing, and let
    our Philosophers say what they will, are one kind of heat, only
    hunger is the safest: ambition is apt to fall; love and valour are
    not free from dangers; only hunger, begotten of some old limber
    Courtier, in pan'de hose, and nurs'd by an Attourneys wife; now so
    thriven, that he need not fear to be of the great Turks guard: is
    so free from all quarrels and dangers, so full of hopes, joyes, and
    ticklings, that my life is not so dear to me as his acquaintance.

                        _Enter Lazarello's boy._

    _Boy._ Sir the Fish head is gone.

    _Laza._ Then be thou henceforth dumb, with thy ill-boding voice.
    Farewell _Millain_, farewell Noble Duke,
    Farewell my fellow Courtiers all, with whom,
    I have of yore made many a scrambling meal
    In corners, behind Arasses, on stairs;
    And in the action oftentimes have spoil'd,
    Our Doublets and our Hose with liquid stuff:
    Farewell you lusty Archers of the Guard,
    To whom I now doe give the bucklers up,
    And never more with any of your coat
    Will eat for wagers, now you happy be,
    When this shall light upon you, think on me:
    You sewers, carvers, ushers of the court
    Sirnamed gentle for your fair demean,
    Here I doe take of you my last farewell,
    May you stand stifly in your proper places, and execute your offices
             aright.
    Farewell you Maidens, with your mother eke,
    Farewell you courtly Chaplains that be there
    All good attend you, may you never more
    Marry your Patrons Ladys wayting-woman,
    But may you raised be by this my fall
    May _Lazarillo_ suffer for you all.

    _Merc._ Sir I was hearkning to you.

    _Laz._ I will hear nothing, I will break my knife, the Ensign of
    my former happy state, knock out my teeth, have them hung at a
    Barbers, and enter into Religion.

    _Boy._ Why Sir, I think I know whither it is gone.

    _Laza._ See the rashness of man in his nature, whither? I do unsay
    all that I have said, go on, go on: Boy, I humble my self and
    follow thee; Farewell Sir.

    _Mer._ Not so Sir, you shall take a piece of Beef with me.

    _Laz._ I cannot stay.

    _Mer._ By my fay but you shall Sir, in regard of your love to
    learning, and your [s]kill in the black Art.

    _Laz._ I do hate learning, and I have no skill in [the] black Art,
    I would I had.

    _Mer._ Why your desire is sufficient to me, you shall stay.

    _Laz._ The most horrible and detested curses that can be imagined,
    light upon all the professors of that Art; may they be drunk, and
    when they goe to conjure, and reel in the Circle, may the spirits
    by them rais'd, tear 'em in pieces, and hang their quarters on old
    broken walls and Steeple tops.

    _Mer._ This speech of yours, shews you to have some skill in the
    Science, wherefore in civilitie, I may not suffer you to depart
    empty.

    _Laz._ My stomach is up, I cannot endure it, I will fight in this
    quarrell as soon as for my Prince.

                          _Draws his Rapier._           [_Exeunt Omnes._

    Room, make way:
    Hunger commands, my valour must obey.

_Actus_ [iiii]. _Scæna Prima._

                       _Enter Count and Arrigo._

    _Count._ Is the Duke private?

    _Arr._ He is alone, but I think your Lordship may enter.

                                                          [_Exit Count._

                           _Enter Gondarino._

    _Gond._ Who's with the Duke?

    _Arr._ The Count is new gone in; but the Duke will come forth,
    before you can be weary of waiting.

    _Gond._ I will attend him here.

    _Arr._ I must wait without the door.                 [_Exit_ Arrigo.

    _Gond._ Doth he hope to clear his Sister? she will come no more to
    my house, to laugh at me: I have sent her to a habitation, where
    when she shall be seen, it will set a gloss upon her name; yet upon
    my soul I have bestow'd her amongst the purest hearted creatures of
    her sex, and the freest from dissimulation; for their deeds are all
    alike, only they dare speak, what the rest think: the women of this
    age, if there be any degrees of comparison amongst their sex, are
    worse than those of former times; for I have read of women, of that
    truth, spirit, and constancy, that were they now living, I should
    endure to see them: but I fear the writers of the time belied them,
    for how familiar a thing is it with the Poets of our age, to extoll
    their whores, which they call Mistresses, with heavenly praises!
    but I thank their furies, and their craz'd brains, beyond belief:
    nay, how many that would fain seem serious, have dedicated grave
    Works to Ladies, toothless, hollow-ey'd, their hair shedding,
    purple fac'd, their nails apparently coming off; and the bridges
    of their noses broken down, and have call'd them the choice handy
    works of nature, the patterns of perfection, and the wonderment of
    Women. Our Women begin to swarm like Bees [in] Summer: as I came
    hither, there was no pair of stairs, no entry, no lobby, but was
    pestred with them: methinks there might be some course taken to
    destroy them.

         _Enter_ Arrigo, _and an old deaf countrey Gentlewoman
                         suitor to the Duke_.

    _Arri._ I do accept your money, walk here, and when the Duke comes
    out, you shall have fit opportunity to deliver your petition to him.

    _Gentlew._ I thank you heartily, I pray you who's he that walks
    there?

    _Ar._ A Lord, and a Soldier, one in good favour with the Duke; if
    you could get him to deliver your Petition--

    _Gentlew._ What do you say, Sir?

    _Ar._ If you could get him to deliver your petition for you, or to
    second you, 'twere sure.

    _Gentlew._ I hope I shall live to requite your kindness.

    _Ar._ You have already.                                [_Exit_ Arri.

    _Gentlew._ May it please your Lordship--

    _Gond._ No, no.

    _Gentlew._ To consider the estate--

    _Gond._ No.

    _Gentlew._ Of a poor oppressed countrey Gentlewoman.

    _Gond._ No, it doth not please my Lordship.

    _Gentlew._ First and formost, I have had great injury, then I have
    been brought up to the Town three times.

    _Gond._ A pox on him, that brought thee to the Town.

    _Gentlew._ I thank your good Lordship heartily; though I cannot
    hear well, I know it grieves you; and here we have been delaid, and
    sent down again, and fetch'd up again, and sent down again, to my
    great charge: and now at last they have fetch'd me up, and five of
    my daughters--

    _Gond._ Enough to damn five worlds.

    _Gentlew._ Handsome young women, though I say it, they are all
    without, if it please your Lordship I'll call them in.

    _Gond._ Five Women! how many of my sences should I have left me
    then? call in five Devils first.

    _No, I will rather walk with thee alone,_
    _And hear thy tedious tale of injury,_
    _And give thee answers; whisper in thine ear,_
    _And make thee understand through thy French hood:_
    _And all this with tame patience._

    _Gentlew._ I see your Lordship does believe, that they are without,
    and I perceive you are much mov'd at our injury: here's a paper
    will tell you more.

    _Gond._ Away.

    _Gentlew._ It may be you had rather hear me tell it _viva voce_,
    as they say.

    _Gond._ Oh no, no, no, no, I have heard it before.

    _Gentlew._ Then you have heard of enough injury, for a poor
    Gentlewoman to receive.

    _Gond._ Never, never, but that it troubles my conscience, to wish
    any good to these women; I could afford them to be valiant, and
    able, that it might be no disgrace for a Soldier to beat them.

    _Gentlew._ I hope your Lordship will deliver my petition to his
    grace, and you may tell him withal--

    _Gond._ What? I will deliver any thing against my self, to be rid
    on thee.

    _Gentlew._ That yesterday about three a clock in the after noon, I
    met my adversary.

    _Gond._ Give me thy paper, he can abide no long tales.

    _Gentlew._ 'Tis very short my Lord, and I demanding of him--

    _Gond._ I'll tell him that shall serve thy turn.

    _Gentlew._ How?

    _Gond._ I'll tell him that shall serve thy turn, begone: man never
    doth remember how great his offences are, till he do meet with one
    of you, that plagues him for them: why should Women [only] above
    all other creatures that were created for the benefit of man, have
    the use of speech? or why should any deed of theirs, done by their
    fleshly appetites, be disgraceful to their owners? nay, why should
    not an act done by any beast I keep, against my consent, disparage
    me as much as that of theirs?

    _Gentlew._ Here's some few Angels for your Lordship.

    _Gond._ Again? yet more torments?

    _Gentlew._ Indeed you shall have them.

    _Gond._ Keep off.

    _Gentlew._ A small gratuity for your kindness.

    _Gond._ Hold away.

    _Gentlew._ Why then I thank your Lordship, I'll gather them up
    again, and I'll be sworn, it is the first money that was refus'd
    since I came to the Court.

    _Gond._ What can she devise to say more?

    _Gentlew._ Truly I would have willingly parted with them to your
    Lordship.

    _Gond._ I believe it, I believe it.

    _Gentlew._ But since it is thus--

    _Gond._ More yet.

    _Gentlew._ I will attend without, and expect an answer.

    _Gond._ Do, begone, and thou shalt expect, and have any thing, thou
    shalt have thy answer from him; and he were best to give thee a
    good one at first, for thy deaf importunity, will conquer him too,
    in the end.

    _Gentlew._ God bless your Lordship, and all tha[t] favour a poor
    distressed countrey Gentlewoman.                    [_Exit Gentlew._

    _Gond._ All the diseases of man light upon them that doe, and upon
    me when I do. A week of such days, would either make me stark mad
    or tame me: yonder other woman that I have sure enough, shall
    answer for thy sins: dare they incense me still, I will make them
    fear as much to be ignorant of me and my moods, as men are to be
    ignorant of the law they live under. Who's there? My bloud grew
    cold, I began to fear my Suiters return; 'tis the Duke.

                    _Enter the Duke and the Count._

    _Count._ I know her chaste, though she be young and free,
    And is not of that forc'd behaviour
    That many others are, and that this Lord,
    Out of the boundless malice to the sex,
    Hath thrown this scandal on her.

    _Gond._ Fortune befriended me against my Will, with this good old
    countrey gentlewoman; I beseech your grace, to view favourably the
    petition of a wronged Gentlewoman.

    _Duke._ What _Gondarino_, are you become a petitioner for your
    enemies?

    _Gond._ My Lord, they are no enemies of mine, I confess, the better
    to [cover] my deeds, which sometimes were loose enough, I pretended
    it, as it is wisdom, to keep close our incontinence, but since you
    have discover'd me, I will no more put on that vizard, but will as
    freely open all my thoughts to you, as to my Confessor.

    _Duke._ What say you to this?

    _Count._ He that confesses he did once dissemble,
    I'll never trust his words: can you imagine
    A Maid, whose beauty could not suffer her
    To live thus long untempted, by the noblest,
    Richest, and cunningst Masters in that Art
    And yet hath ever held a fair repute;
    Could in one morning, and by him be brought,
    To forget all her virtue, and turn whore?

    _Gond._ I would I had some other talk in hand,
    Than to accuse a Sister to her Brother:
    Nor do I mean it for a publick scandal,
    Unless by urging me you make it so.

    _Duke._ I will read this at better leisure:   [_Gondarino_, where is
    the Lady?]

    _Count._ At his house.

    _Gond._ No, she is departed thence.

    _Count._ Whither?

    _Gond._ Urge it not thus, or let me be excus'd,
    If what I speak betray her chastity,
    And both increase my sorrow, and your own?

    _Count._ Fear me not so, if she deserve the fame
    Which she hath gotten, I would have it publisht,
    Brand her my self, and whip her through the City:
    I wish those of my bloud that doe offend,
    Should be more strictly punish[t], than my foes.
    Let it be prov'd.

    _Duke. Gondarino_, thou shalt prove it, or suffer worse than
    she should do.

    _Gond._ Then pardon me, if I betray the faults
    Of one, I love more dearly than my self,
    Since opening hers, I shall betray mine own:
    But I will bring you where she now intends
    Not to be virtuous: pride and wantonness,
    That are true friends indeed, though not in shew,
    Have entr'd on her heart, there she doth bathe,
    And sleek her hair, and practise cunning looks
    To entertain me with; and hath her thoughts
    As full of lust, as ever you did think
    Them full of modesty.

    _Duke. Gondarino_, lead on, we'll follow thee.            [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quartus. Scæna Secunda._

                            _Enter_ Pandar.

    _Pan._ Here hope I to meet my Citizen, and [here] hopes he to meet
    his [Scholar]; I am sure I am grave enough, to his eyes, and knave
    enough to deceive him: I am believ'd to conjure, raise storms, and
    devils, by whose power I can do wonders; let him believe so still,
    belief hurts no man; I have an honest black cloak, for my knavery,
    and a general pardon for his foolery, from this present day, till
    the day of his breaking. Is't not a misery, and the greatest of our
    age, to see a handsome, young, fair enough, and well mounted wench,
    humble her self, in an old stammel petticoat, standing possest of
    no more fringe, than the street can allow her: her upper parts so
    poor and wanting, that ye may see her bones through her bodies:
    shooes she would have, if [her] Captain were come over, and is
    content the while to devote her self to antient slippers. These
    premisses well considered, Gentlemen, will move, they make me melt
    I promise ye, they stirr me much: and wer't not for my smooth,
    soft, silken Citizen, I would quit this transitory Trade, get me
    an everlasting Robe, sear up my conscience, and turn Serjeant.
    But here he comes, is mine as good as prize: Sir _Pandarus_ be my
    speed, ye are most fitly met Sir.

                            _Enter Mercer._

    _Mer._ And you as well encount'red, what of this heir? hath your
    Books been propitious?

    _Pan._ Sir, 'tis done, she's come, she's in my house, make your
    self apt for Courtship, stroke up your stockings, loose not an inch
    of your legs goodness; I am sure ye wear socks.

    _Mer._ There your Books fail ye Sir, in truth I wear no socks.

    _Pand._ I would you had, Sir, it were the sweeter grace for your
    legs; get on your Gloves, are they perfum'd?

    _Mer._ A pretty wash I'll assure you.

    _Pand._ 'Twill serve: your offers must be full of bounty, Velvets
    to furnish a Gown, Silks for Peticoats and Foreparts, Shag for
    lining; forget not some pretty Jewel to fasten, after some little
    compliment: if she deny this courtesie, double your bounties, be
    not wanting in abundance, fulness of gifts, link'd with a pleasing
    tongue, will win an Anchorite. Sir, ye are my friend, and friend to
    all that professes good Letters; I must not use this office else,
    it fits not for a Scholar, and a Gentleman: those stockin[g]s are
    of _Naples_, they are silk?

    _Mer._ Ye are again beside your Text, Sir, they're of the best of
    Wooll, and [they cleeped] Jersey.

    _Pan._ Sure they are very dear.

    _Mer._ Nine shillings, by my love to learning.

    _Pan._ Pardon my judgement, we Scholars use no other objects, but
    our Books.

    _Mer._ There is one thing entomb'd in that grave breast, that makes
    me equally admire it with your Scholarship.

    _Pand._ Sir; but that in modesty I am bound not to affect mine own
    commendation, I would enquire it of you.

    _Merc._ Sure you are very honest; and yet ye have a kind of modest
    fear to shew it: do not deny it, that face of yours is a worthy,
    learned modest face.

    _Pand._ Sir, I can blush.

    _Mer._ Virtue and grace are always pair'd together: but I will
    leave to stirr your bloud Sir, and now to our business.

    _Pand._ Forget not my instructions.

    _Mer._ I apprehend ye Sir, I will gather my self together with my
    best phrases, and so I shall discourse in some sort takingly.

    _Pand._ This was well worded Sir, and like a Scholar.

    _Mer._ The Muses favour me as my intents are virtuous;
    Sir, ye shall be my Tutor, 'tis never too late Sir, to love
    Learning.
    When I can once speak true Latine--

    _Pand._ What do you intend Sir?

    _Mer._ Marry I will then begger all your bawdy Writers, and
    undertake, at the peril of my own invention, all Pageants, Poesies
    for Chimneys, Speeches for the Dukes entertainment, whensoever and
    whatsoever; nay I will build, at mine own charge, an Hospital, to
    which shall retire all diseased opinions, all broken Poets, all
    Prose-men that are fall'n from small sence, to meer Letters; and it
    shall be lawful for a Lawyer, if he be a civil man, though he have
    undone others and himself by the language, to retire to this poor
    life, and learn to be honest.

    _Pand._ Sir, ye are very good, and very charitable: ye are a true
    pattern for the City Sir.

    _Merc._ Sir, I doe know sufficiently, their Shop-books cannot save
    them, there is a farther end--

    _Pand._ Oh Sir, much may be done by manuscript.

    _Mer._ I do confess it Sir, provided still they be Canonical, and
    [have] some worthy hands set to 'um for probation: but we forget
    our selves.

    _Pand._ Sir, enter when you please, and all good language tip your
    tongue.

    _Merc._ All that love Learning pray for my good success.

                                                         [_Exit Mercer._

_Actus Quartus. Scæna Tertia._

                    _Enter_ Lazarello _and his Boy_.

    _Laz._ [Boy, whereabouts] are we?

    _Boy._ Sir, by all tokens this is the house, bawdy I am sure, [by]
    the broken windows, the Fish head is within; if ye dare venture,
    here you may surprize it.

    _Laz._ The misery of man may fitly be compar'd to a Didapper, who
    when she is under water, past our sight, and indeed can seem no
    more to us, rises again; shakes but her self, and is the same she
    was, so is it still with transitory man, this day: oh but an hour
    since, and I was mighty, mighty in knowledge, mighty in my hopes,
    mighty in blessed means, and was so truly happy, that I durst have
    said, live _Lazarello_, and be satisfied: but now--

    _Boy._ Sir, ye are yet afloat, and may recover, be not your own
    wreck, here lies the harbor, goe in and ride at ease.

    _Laz._ Boy, I am receiv'd to be a Gentleman, a Courtier, and a man
    of action, modest, and wise, and be it spoken with thy reverence,
    Child, abounding virtuous; and wouldst thou have a man of these
    choise habits, covet the cover of a bawdy-house? yet if I goe not
    in, I am but--

    _Boy._ But what Sir?

    _Laz._ Dust boy, but dust, and my soul unsatisfied shall haunt the
    keepers of my blessed Saint, and I will appear.

    _Boy._ An ass to all men; Sir, these are no means to stay your
    appetite, you must resolve to enter.

    _Laz._ Were not the house subject to Martial Law--

    _Boy._ If that be all, Sir, ye may enter, for ye can know nothing
    here that the Court is ignorant of, only the more eyes shall look
    upon you, for there they wink one at anothers faults.

    _Laz._ If I doe not.

    _Boy._ Then ye must beat fairly back again, fall to your physical
    mess of porridge, and the twice sack'd carkass of a Capon: Fortune
    may favour you so much, to send the bread to it: but it's a mee[re]
    venture, and money may be put out upon it.

    _Laz._ I will go in and live; pretend some love to the Gentlewoman,
    screw my self in affection, and so be satisfied.

    _Pan._ This Fly is caught, is mash'd already, I will suck him, and
    lay him by.

    _Boy._ Muffle your self in your cloak by any means, 'tis a receiv'd
    thing among gallants, to walk to their leachery, as though they had
    the rheum, 'twas well you brought not your horse.

    _Laz._ Why Boy?

    _Boy._ Faith Sir, 'tis the fashion of our Gentry, to have their
    horses wait at door like men, while the beasts their Masters, are
    within at rack and manger, 'twould have discover'd much.

    _Laz._ I will lay by these habits, forms, and grave respects of
    what I am, and be my self; only my appetite, my fire, my soul, my
    being, my dear appetite shall go along with me, arm'd with whose
    strength, I fearless will attempt the greatest danger dare oppose
    my fury: I am resolv'd where ever that thou art, most sacred dish,
    hid from unhallow'd eyes, to find thee out.

    Be'st thou in Hell, rap't by _Proserpina_,
    To be a rival in black _Pluto's_ love;
    Or mov'st thou in the heavens, a form Divine:
    Lashing the lazie Sphear[s],
    Or if thou be'st return'd to thy first Being,
    Thy mother Sea, the[re] will I seek thee forth.
    Earth, Air, nor Fire,
    Nor the black shades below shall bar my sight
    So daring is my powerful appetite.

    _Boy._ Sir, you may save this long voyage, and take a shorter
    cut: you have forgot your self, the fish head's here, your own
    imaginations have made you mad.

    _Laz._ Term it a jealous fury, good my boy.

    _Boy._ Faith Sir term it what you will, you must use other terms
    [ere] you can get it.

    _Laz._ The looks of my sweet love are fair,
    Fresh and feeding as the air.

    _Boy._ Sir, you forget your self.

    _Laz._ Was never seen so rare a head,
    Of any Fish alive or dead.

    _Boy._ Good Sir remember: this is the house, Sir.

    _Laz._ Cursed be he that dare not venture.

    _Boy._ Pity your self, Sir, and leave this fury.

    _Laz._ For such a prize, and so I enter.

                                            [_Exit_ Lazarello _and Boy_.

    _Pan._ Dun's i'th' mire, get out again how he can:
    My honest gallant, I'll shew you one trick more
    Than e'er the fool your father dream'd of yet.
    _Madona Julia_?

                    _Enter_ Madona Julia, _a Whore_.

    _Julia._ What news my sweet rogue, my dear sins-broker, what? good
    news?

    _Pan._ There is a kind of ignorant thing,
    Much like a Courtier, now gone in.

    _Jul._ Is he gallant?

    _Pan._ He shines not very gloriously, nor does he wear one skin
    perfum'd to keep the other sweet; his coat is not in _Or_, nor
    does the world run yet on wheels with him; he's rich enough, and
    has a small thing follows him, like to a boat tyed to a tall ships
    tail: give him entertainment, be light, and flashing like a Meteor,
    hug him about the neck, give him a kiss, and lisping cry, good
    Sir; and he's thine own, as fast as he were tied to thine arms by
    Indenture[s].

    _Jul._ I dare doe more than this, if he be o'th' true Court cut;
    I'll take him out a lesson worth the Learning: but we are but their
    Apes; what's he worth?

    _Pan._ Be he rich, or poor; if he will take thee with him, thou
    maist use thy trade [free] from Constables, and Marshals: who hath
    been here since I went out?

    _Jul._ There is a Gentlewoman sent hither by a Lord, she's a piece
    of dainty stuff my rogue, smooth and soft, as new Sattin; she was
    never gumm'd yet boy, nor fretted.

    _Pan._ Where lies she?

    _Jul._ She lies above, towards the street, not to be spoke with,
    but by [the] Lord that sent her, or some from him, we have in
    charge from his servants.

                           _Enter_ Lazarello.

    _Pan._ Peace, he comes out again upon discovery; up with all your
    Canvas, hale him in; and when thou hast done, clap him aboard
    bravely, my valiant Pinnace.

    _Jul._ Begone, I shall doe reason with him.

    _Laz._ Are you the special beauty of this house?

    _Jul._ Sir, you have given it a more special regard by your good
    language, than these black brows can merit.

    _Laz._ Lady, you are fair.

    _Jul._ Fair Sir? I thank ye; all the poor means I have left to be
    thought grateful, is but a kiss, and ye shall have it Sir.

    _Laz._ Ye have a very moving lip.

    _Jul._ Prove it again Sir, it may be your sense was set too high,
    and so over-wrought it self.

    _Laz._ 'Tis still the same: how far may ye hold the time to be
    spent Lady?

    _Jul._ Four a clock, Sir.

    _Laz._ I have not eat to day.

    _Jul._ You will have the better stomach to your supper; in the mean
    time I'll feed you with delight.

    _Laz._ 'Tis not so good upon an empty stomach: if it might be
    without the trouble of your house, I would eat?

    _Jul._ Sir, we can have a Capon ready.

    _Laz._ The day?

    _Jul._ 'Tis Friday, Sir.

    _Laz._ I do eat little flesh upon these days.

    _Jul._ Come sweet, ye shall not think on meat; I'll drown it with a
    better appetite.

    _Laz._ I feel it work more strangely, I must eat.

    _Jul._ 'Tis now too late to send; I say ye shall not think on meat:
    if ye do, by this kiss I'll be angry.

    _Laz._ I could be far more sprightful, had I eaten, and more
    lasting.

    _Jul._ What will you have Sir? name but the Fish, my Maid shall
    bring it, if it may be got.

    _Laz._ Methinks your house should not be so unfurnish'd, as not to
    have some pretty modicum.

    _Jul._ It is [so] now: but you'd ye stay till supper?

    _Laz._ Sure I have offended highly, and much, and my [infl]ictions
    makes it manifest, I will retire henceforth, and keep my chamber,
    live privately, and dye forgotten.

    _Jul._ Sir, I must crave your pardon, I had forgot my self; I have
    a dish of meat within, and it is fish; I think this Dukedom holds
    not a daintier: 'tis an _Umbranoes_ head.

    _Laz._ [Lady, this] kiss is yours, and this.

    _Jul._ Hoe! within there! cover the board, and set the Fish head on
    it.

    _Laz._ Now am I so truly happy, so much above all fate and fortune,
    that I should despise that man, durst say, remember _Lazarello_,
    thou art mortal.

                  _Enter Intelligencers with a Guard._

    _2 Int._ This is the villain, lay [hands] on him.

    _Laz._ Gentlemen, why am I thus intreated? what is the nature of my
    crime?

    _2 Int._ Sir, though you have carried it a great while privately,
    and (as you think) well; yet we have seen you Sir, and we do know
    thee _Lazarello_, for a Traitor.

    _Laz._ The gods defend our Duke.

    _2 Int._ Amen, Sir, Sir, this cannot save that stiff neck from the
    halter.

    _Jul._ Gentlemen, I am glad you have discover'd him, he should not
    have eaten under my roof for twenty pounds; and surely I did not
    like him, when he call'd for Fish. _Laz._ My friends, will ye let
    me have that little favour--

    _1 Int._ Sir, ye shall have Law, and nothing else.

    _Laz._ To let me stay the eating of a bit or two, for I protest I
    am yet fasting.

    _Jul._ I'll have no Traitor come within my house.

    _Laz._ Now could I wish my self I had been a Traitor, I have
    strength enough for to endure it, had I but patience: Man thou art
    but grass, thou art a bubble, and thou must perish.

    Then lead along, I am prepar'd for all:
    Since I have lost my hopes, welcome my fall.

    _2 Int._ Away Sir.

    _Laz._ As thou hast hope of man, stay but this dish this two hours,
    I doubt not but I shall be discharged: by this light I will marry
    thee.

    _Jul._ You shall marry me first then.

    _Laz._ I do contract my self unto thee now, before these Gentlemen.

    _Jul._ I'll preserve it till you be hang'd or quitted.

    _Laz._ Thanks, thanks.

    _2 Int._ Away, away, you shall thank her at the gallows.

    _Laz._ Adieu, adieu.              [_Exeunt_ Laz. _2 Int. and Guard._

    _Jul._ If he live I'll have him, if he be hang'd, there's no loss
    in it.                                                      [_Exit._

    _Enter_ Oriana _and her waiting woman, looking out at a window_.

    _Orian._ Hast thou provided one to bear my Letter to my brother?

    _Wait._ I have enquir'd, but they of the house will suffer no
    Letter nor message to be carried from you, but such as the Lord
    _Gondarino_ shall be acquainted with: truly Madam I suspect the
    house to be no better than it should be.

    _Ori._ What dost thou doubt?

    _Wait._ Faith I am loth to tell it, Madam.

    _Ori._ Out with it, 'tis not true modesty to fear to speak that
    thou dost think.

    _Wait._ I think it [be] one of these [same] Bawdy houses.

    _Ori._ 'Tis no matter wench, we are warm in it, keep thou thy mind
    pure, and upon my word, that name will do thee no hurt: I cannot
    force my self yet to fear any thing; when I do get out, I'll [have]
    another encounter with my Woman-Hater. Here will I sit. I may get
    sight of some of my friends, it must needs be a comfort to them to
    see me here.

                _Enter_ Duke, Gondarino, Count, Arrigo.

    _Gond._ Are we all sufficiently disguis'd? for this house where she
    attends me, is not to be visited in our own shapes.

    _Duke._ We are not our selves.

    _Arr._ I know the house to be sinful enough, yet I have been
    heretofore, and durst now, but for discovering of you, appear here
    in my own likeness.

    _Duke._ Where's _Lucio_?

    _Arri._ My Lord, he said the affairs of the Common-wealth would not
    suffer him to attend always.

    _Duke._ Some great ones questionless that he will handle.

    _Count._ Come, let us enter.

    _Gond._ See how Fortune strives to revenge my quarrel upon these
    women, she's in the window, were it not to undoe her, I should not
    look upon her.

    _Duke._ Lead us _Gondarino_.

    _Gond._ Stay; since you force me to display my shame,
    Look there, and you my Lord, know you that face?

    _Duke._ Is't she?

    _Count._ It is.

    _Gond._ 'Tis she, whose greatest virtue ever was
    Dissimulation; she that still hath strove
    More to sin cunningly, than to avoid it:
    She that hath ever sought to be accounted
    Most virtuous, when she did deserve most scandal:
    'Tis she that itches now, and in the height
    Of her intemperate thoughts, with greedy eyes
    Expects my coming to allay her Lust:
    Leave her; forget she's thy sister.

    _Count._ Stay, stay.

    _Duke._ I am as full of this, as thou canst be,
    The memory of this will easily
    Hereafter stay my loose and wandring thought[s]
    From any Woman.

    _Count._ This will not down with me, I dare not trust this fellow.

    _Duke._ Leave her here, that only shall be her punishment, never to
    be fetcht from hence; but let her use her trade to get her living.

    _Count._ Stay good my Lord, I do believe all this, as great men as
    I, have had known whores to their Sisters, and have laught at it:
    I would fain hear how she talks, since she grew thus light: will
    your grace make him shew himself to her, as if he were now come
    to satisfie her longing? whilst we, unseen of her, over-hear her
    wantonness, let's make our best of it now, we shall have good mirth.

    _Duke._ Do it _Gondarino_.

    _Gond._ I must; fortune assist me but this once.

    _Count._ Here we shall stand unseen, and near enough.

    _Gond._ Madam, _Oriana_.

    _Oria._ Who's that? oh! my Lord?

    _Gond._ Shall I come up?

    _Oria._ Oh you are merry, shall I come down?

    _Gond._ It is better there.

    _Oria._ What is the confession of the lye you made to the Duke,
    which I scarce believe, yet you had impudence enough to do? did it
    not gain you so much faith with me, as that I was willing to be at
    your Lordships bestowing, till you had recover'd my credit, and
    confest your self a lyar, as you pretended to do? I confess I began
    to fear you, and desir'd to be out of your house, but your own
    followers forc'd me hither.

    _Gond._ 'Tis well suspected, dissemble still, for there are some
    may hear us.

    _Oria._ More tricks yet, my Lord? what house this is I know not, I
    only know my self: it were a great conquest, if you could fasten
    a scandal upon me: 'faith my Lord, give me leave to write to my
    brother?

    _Duke._ Come down.

    _Count._ Come down.

    _Arr._ If it please your Grace, there's a back door.

    _Count._ Come meet us there then.

    _Duke._ It seems you are acquainted with the house.

    _Arr._ I have been in it.

    _Gond._ She saw you and dissembled.

    _Duke._ Sir, we shall know that better.

    _Gond._ Bring me unto her, if I prove her not
    To be a strumpet, let me be contemn'd
    Of all her sex.                                           [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quintus. Scæna Prima._

                             _Enter_ Lucio.

    _Luc._ Now whilst the young Duke follows his delights,
    We that do mean to practise in the State,
    Must pick our times, and set our faces in,
    And nod our heads as it may prove most fit
    For the main good of the dear Common-wealth:
    Who's within there?

                           _Enter a Servant._

    _Serv._ My Lord?

    _Luc._ Secretary, fetch the Gown I use to read Petitions in,
    and the Standish I answer French Letters with: and call in the
    Gentleman that attends:                                [_Exit Serv._

    Little know they that do not deal in State,
    How many things there are to be observ'd,
    Which seem but little; yet by one of us
    (Whose brains do wind about the Common-wealth)
    Neglected, cracks our credits utterly.

                    _Enter Gentleman and a Servant._

    Sir, but that I do presume upon your secresie, I would not have
    appear'd to you thus ignorantly attir'd without a tooth-pick in a
    ribbond, or a Ring in my bandstring[s].

    _Gent._ Your Lordship sen[t] for me?

    _Luc._ I did: Sir, your long practice in the State, under a great
    man, hath led you to much experience.

    _Gent._ My Lord.

    _Luc._ Suffer not your modesty to excuse it: in short, and in
    private, I desire your direction, I take my study already to be
    furnisht after a grave and wise method.

    _Gent._ What will this Lord do?

    _Luc._ My Book-strings are sutable, and of a reaching colour.

    _Gent._ How's this?

    _Luc._ My Standish of Wood, strange and sweet, and my fore-flap
    hangs in the right place, and as near _Machiavel's_, as can be
    gathered by tradition.

    _Gent._ Are there such men as will say nothing abroad, and play
    the fools in their Lodgings? this Lord must be followed: and hath
    your Lordship some new made words to scatter in your speeches in
    publick, to gain note, that the hearers may carry them away, and
    dispute of them at dinner?

    _Luc._ I have Sir: and besides, my several Gowns and Caps agreeable
    to my several occasions.

    _Gent._ 'Tis well, and you have learn'd to write a bad hand, that
    the Readers may take pains for it.

    _Luc._ Yes Sir, and I give out I have the palsie.

    _Gent._ Good, 'twere better though, if you had it: your Lordship
    hath a Secretary, that can write fair, when you purpose to be
    understood.

    _Luc._ 'Faith Sir I have one, there he stands, he hath been my
    Secretary these seven years, but he hath forgotten to write.

    _Gen._ If he can make a writing face, it is not amiss, so he keep
    his own counsel: your Lordship hath no hope of the Gout?

    _Luc._ Uh, little Sir, since the pain in my right foot left me.

    _Gent._ 'Twill be some scandal to your wisdom, though I see your
    Lordship knows enough in publick business.

    _Luc._ I am not imploy'd (though to my desert) in occasions
    forreign, nor frequented for matters domestical.

    _Gent._ Not frequented? what course takes your Lordship?

    _Luc._ The readiest way, my door stands wi[de], my Secretary knows
    I am not denied to any.

    _Gent._ In this (give me leave) your Lordship is out of the way:
    make a back door to let out Intelligencers; seem to be ever busie,
    and put your door under keepers, and you shall have a troop of
    Clients sweating to come at you.

    _Luc._ I have a back door already, I will henceforth be busie,
    Secretary, run and keep the door.                 [_Exit Secretary._

    _Gent._ This will fetch 'um?

    _Luc._ I hope so.

                           _Enter Secretary._

    _Secr._ My Lord, there are some require access to you, about
    weighty affairs of State.

    _Luc._ Already?

    _Gent._ I told you so.

    _Luc._ How weighty is the business?

    _Secr._ Treason my Lord.

    _Luc._ Sir, my debts to you for this are great.

    _Gent._ I will leave your Lordship now.

    _Luc._ Sir, my death must be suddain, if I requite you not: at the
    back door good Sir.

    _Gent._ I will be your Lordships Intelligencer for once.      [_Exit
    Gentleman._

                           _Enter Secretary._

    _Secr._ My Lord.

    _Luc._ Let 'em in, and say I am at my study.

              _Enter_ Lazarello, _and two Intelligencers_,
                      Lucio _being at his study_.

    _1 Int._ Where is your Lord?

    _Secr._ At his study, but he will have you brought in.

    _Laza._ Why Gentlemen, what will you charge me withal?

    _2 Int._ Treason, horrible treason, I hope to have the leading of
    thee to prison, and prick thee on i'th' arse with a Halbert: to
    have him hang'd that salutes thee, and call all those in question
    that spit not upon thee.

    _Laz._ My thred is spun, yet might I but call for this dish of meat
    at the gallows, instead of a Psalm, it were to be endur'd: the
    Curtain opens, now my end draws on.

                                         [_Secretary draws the Curtain._

    _Luc._ Gentlemen, I am not empty of weighty occasions at this time;
    I pray you your business.

    _1 Int._ My Lord, I think we have discover'd one of the most bloudy
    Traitors, that ever the world held.

    _Luc._ Signior _Lazarillo_, I am glad ye are one of this discovery,
    give me your hand.

    _2 Int._ My Lord, that is the Traitor.

    _Luc._ Keep him off, I would not for my whole estate have touchd
    him.

    _Laz._ My Lord.

    _Luc._ Peace Sir, I know the devil is at your tongue's end, to
    furnish you with speeches: what are the particulars you charge him
    with?

                          [_They deliver a paper to_ Lucio, _who reads_.

    _Both Int._ We [have] conferr'd our Notes, and have extracted that,
    which we will justifie upon our oaths.

    _Luc._ That he would be greater than the Duke, that he had cast
    plots for this, and meant to corrupt some to betray him, that he
    would burn the City, kill the Duke, and poison the Privy Council;
    and lastly kill himself. Though thou deserv'st justly to be hang'd
    with silence, yet I allow thee to speak, be short.

    _Laz._ My Lord, so may my greatest wish succeed,
    So may I live, and compass what I seek,
    As I had never treason in my thoughts,
    Nor ever did conspire the overthrow
    Of any creatures but of brutish beasts,
    Fowls, Fishes, and such other humane food,
    As is provided for the good of man.
    If stealing Custards, Tarts, and Florentines
    By some late Statute be created Treason;
    How many fellow-Courtiers can I bring,
    Whose long attendance and experience,
    Hath made them deeper in the plot than I?

    _Luc._ Peace, such hath ever been the clemency of my gracious
    Master the Duke, in all his proceedings, that I had thought, and
    thought I had thought rightly; that malice would long e'r this
    have hid her self in her Den, a[n]d have turn'd her own sting
    against her own heart: but I well [now] perceive, that so froward
    is the disposition of a deprav'd nature, that it doth not only seek
    revenge, where it hath receiv'd injury, but many times thirst after
    their destruction, where it hath met with benefits.

    _Laz._ But my good Lord--

    _2 Int._ Let's gagg him.

    _Luc._ Peace again, but many times thirst after destruction, where
    it hath met with benefits; there I left: Such, and no better are
    the business that we have now in hand.

    _1 Int._ He's excellently spoken.

    _[2] Int._ He'll wind a Traitor I warrant him.

    _Luc._ But surely methinks, setting aside the touch of conscience,
    and all [other] inward convulsions.

    _2 Int._ He'll be hang'd, I know by that word.

    _Laz._ Your Lordship may consider--

    _Luc._ Hold thy peace: thou canst not answer this speech: no
    Traitor can answer it: but because you cannot answer this speech, I
    take it you have confess'd the Treason.

    _1 Int._ The Count _Valore_ was the first that discover'd him, and
    can witness it; but he left the matter to your Lordship's grave
    consideration.

    _Luc._ I thank his Lordship, carry him away speedily to the Duke.

    _Laz._ Now _Lazarillo_ thou art tumbl'd down
    The hill of fortune, with a violent arm;
    All plagues that can be, Famine, and the Sword
    Will light upon thee, black despair will boil
    In thy despairing breast, no comfort by,
    Thy friends far off, thy enemies are nigh.

    _Luc._ Away with him, I'll follow you, look you pinion him, and
    take his money from him, lest he swallow a shilling, and kill
    himself.

    _2 Int._ Get thou on before.                              [_Exeunt._

_Actus Quintus. Scæna [2]._

         _Enter the Duke, the Count_, Gondarino, _and_ Arrigo.

    _Duke._ Now _Gondarino_, what can you put on now
    That may [again] deceive us?
    Have ye more strange illusions, yet more mists,
    Through which, the weak eye may be led to error:
    What can ye say that may do satisfaction
    Both for her wrong'd honor, and your ill?

    _Gond._ All I can say, or may, is said already:
    She is unchaste, or else I have no knowledge,
    I do not breathe, nor have the use of sense.

    _Duke._ Dare ye be yet so wilful, ignorant of your own
    nakedness? did not your servants
    In mine own hearing confess
    They brought her to that house we found her in,
    Almost by force: and with a great distrust
    Of some ensuing hazard?

    _Count._ He that hath begun so worthily,
    It fits not with his resolution
    To leave off thus, my Lord, I know these are but idle proofs.
    What says your Lordship to them?

    _Gond._ Count, I dare yet pronounce again, thy Sister is not honest.

    _Count._ You are your self my Lord, I like your setledness.

    _Gond._ Count, thou art young, and unexperienc'd in the dark,
    hidden ways of Women: Thou dar'st affirm with confidence, a Lady of
    fifteen may be a Maid.

    _Count._ Sir, if it were not so, I have a Sister would set near my
    heart.

    _Gond._ Let her sit near her shame, it better fits her: call back
    the bloud that made our stream in nearness, and turn the Current to
    a better use; 'tis too much mudded, I do grieve to know it.

    _Duke._ Dar'st thou make up again, dar'st thou turn face, knowing
    we know thee, hast thou not been discover'd openly? did not our
    ears hear her deny thy courtings? did we not see her blush with
    modest anger, to be so overtaken by a trick; can ye deny this Lord?

    _Gond._ Had not your Grace, and her kind brother
    Been within level of her eye,
    You should have had a hotter volley from her,
    More full of bloud and fire, ready to leap the window where she stood.
    So truly sensual is her appetite.

    _Duke._ Sir, Sir, these are but words and tricks, give me the proof.

    _Count._ What need a better proof than your Lordship?
    I am sure ye have lain with her my Lord.

    _Gond._ I have confest it Sir.

    _Duke._ I dare not give thee credit without witness.

    _Gond._ Does your grace think we carry seconds with us, to search
    us, and see fair play: your Grace hath been ill tutor'd in the
    business; but if you hope to try her truly, and satisfy your self
    what frailty is, give her the Test: do not remember Count she is
    your Sister; nor let my Lord the Duke believe she is fair; but put
    her to it without hope or pity, then ye shall see that golde[n]
    form flie off, that all eyes wonder at for pure and fixt, and
    under't base blushing Copper; metall not worth the meanest honor:
    you shall behold her then my Lord transparent, look through her
    heart, and view the spirits how they leap, and tell me then I did
    belie the Lady.

    _Duke._ It shall be done: come _Gondarino_ bear us company,
    We do believe thee: she shall die, and thou shalt see it.

          _Enter_ Lazarello, _two Intelligencers, and Guard_.

    How now my friends, [whome] have you guarded hither?

    _2 Int._ So please your Grace we have discover'd a villain and a
    Traitor: the Lord _Lucio_ hath examin'd him, and sent him to your
    Grace for Judgement.

    _Count._ My Lord, I dare absolve him from all sin of Treason: I
    know his most ambition is but a dish of meat; which he hath hunted
    with so true a scent, that he deserveth the Collar not the Halter.

    _Duke._ Why do they bring him thus bound up? the poor man had more
    need [of] some warm meat, to comfort his cold stomach.

    _Count._ Your Grace shall have the cause hereafter, when you [may]
    laugh more freely:

    But these are call'd Informers: men that live by Treason, as
    Rat-catchers do by poison.

    _Duke._ Would there were no heavier prodigies hung over us,
    than this poor fellow, I durst redeem all perils ready to pour
    themselves upon this State, with a cold Custard.

    _Count._ Your Grace might do it without danger to your person.

    _Laz._ My Lord, if ever I intended treason against your Person,
    or the State, unless it were by wishing from your Table some dish
    of meat, which I must needs confess, was not a subjects part: or
    coveting by stealth, sups from those noble bottles, that no mouth,
    keeping allegiance true, should dare to taste: I must confess, with
    more than covetous eye, I have beheld those dear conceal'd dishes,
    that have been brought in by cunning equipage, to wait upon your
    Graces pallat: I do confesse, out of this present heat, I have had
    Stratagems and Ambuscado's; but God be thank'd they have never took.

    _Duke._ Count, this business is your own; when you have done,
    repair to us.                                          [_Exit Duke._

    _Count._ I will attend your Grace: _Lazarello_, you are at liberty,
    be your own man again; and if you can be master of your wishes, I
    wish it may be so.

    _Laz._ I humbly thank your Lordship: I must be unmannerly, I have
    some present business, once more I heartily thank your Lordship.
    [_Exit_ Lazarillo.

    _Count._ Now even a word or two to you, and so farewell; you think
    you have deserv'd much of this State by this discovery: y'are a
    slavish people, grown subject to the common course of all men.
    How much unhappy were that noble spirit, could work by such baser
    gains? what misery would not a knowing man put on with willingness,
    e'r he see himself grown fat and full fed, by fall of those you
    rise by? I do discharge ye my attendance; our healthful State needs
    no such Leeches to suck out her bloud.

    _1 Int._ I do beseech your Lordship.

    _2 Int._ Good my Lord.

    _Count._ Go learn to be more honest, [when] I see you work your
    means from honest industry,                     [_Exeunt Informers._

    I will be willing to accept your labours:
    Till then I will keep back my promis'd favours:
    Here comes another remnant of folly:

                             _Enter_ Lucio.

    I must dispatch him too. Now Lord _Lucio_, what business [bring]
    you hither?

    _Luc._ Faith Sir, I am discovering what will become of that notable
    piece of treason, intended by that Varlet _Lazarillo_; I have sent
    him to the Duke for judgement.

    _Count._ Sir, you have perform'd the part of a most careful
    Statesman, and let me say it to your face, Sir, of a Father to
    this State: I would wish you to retire, and insconce your self in
    study: for such is your daily labour, and our fear, that our loss
    of an hour may breed our overthrow.

    _Luc._ Sir, I will be commanded by your judgement, and though I
    find it a trouble scant to be waded through, by these weak years:
    yet for the dear care of the Commonwealth, I will bruise my brains,
    and confine my self to much vexation.

    _Count._ Go, and maist thou knock down Treason like an Ox.

    _Luc._ Amen.

                                                              [_Exeunt._

                  _Enter Mercer, Pandar, Francissina._

    _Mer._ Have I spoke thus much in the honor of Learning? learn'd the
    names of the seven liberal Sciences, before my marriage; and since,
    have in haste written Epistles congratulatory, to the Nine Muses,
    and is she prov'd a Whore and a Begger?

    _Pan._ 'Tis true, you are not now to be taught, that no man can be
    learn'd of a suddain; let not your first project discourage you,
    what you have lost in this, you may get again in Alchumie.

    _Fran._ Fear not Husband, I hope to make as good a wife, as the
    best of your neighbors have, and as honest.

    _Mer._ I will goe home; good Sir, do not publish this, as long as
    it runs amongst our selves; 'tis good honest mirth: you'll come
    home to supper; I mean to have all her friends, and mine, as ill as
    it goes.

    _Pan._ Do wisely Sir, and bid your own friends, your whole wealth
    will scarce feast all hers, neither is it for your credit, to walk
    the streets with a woman so noted; get you home and provide her
    cloaths: let her come an hour hence with an Hand-basket, and shift
    her self, she'll serve to sit at the upper end of the Table, and
    drink to your customers.

    _Mer._ Art is just, and will make me amends.

    _Pan._ No doubt Sir.

    _Mer._ The chief note of a Scholar you say, is to govern his
    passions; wherefore I do take all patiently; in sign of which, my
    [most] dear Wife, I do kiss thee, make haste home after me, I shall
    be in my study.

                                                         [_Exit Mercer._

    _Pan._ Go, avaunt, my new City Dame, send me what you promis'd me
    for consideration; and may'st thou prove a Lady.

    _Fran._ Thou shalt have it, his Silks shall flie for it.  [_Exeunt._

                    _Enter_ Lazarello _and his boy_.

    _Laz._ How sweet is a Calm after a Tempest, what is there now that
    can stand betwixt me and felicity? I have gone through all my
    crosses constantly; have confounded my enemies, and know where to
    have my longing[s] satisfied: I have my way before me, there's the
    door, and I may freely walk into my delights: knock boy.

    _Jul._ Who's there?                                       [_Within._

    _Laz. Madona_, my Love, not guilty, not guilty, open the door.

                             _Enter_ Julia.

    _Jul._ Art thou come sweet-heart?

    _Laz._ Yes, to [thy] soft embraces, and the rest of my over-flowing
    blisses; come, let us in and swim in our delights: a short Grace as
    we go, and so to meat.

    _Jul._ Nay my dear Love, you must bear with me in this; we'll to
    the Church first.

    _Laz._ Shall I be sure of it then?

    _Jul._ By my love you shall.

    _Laz._ I am content, for I do now wish to hold off longer, to whet
    my appetite, and do desire to meet with more troubles, so I might
    conquer them:

    And as a holy Lover that hath spent
    The tedious night with many a sigh and tears;
    Whilst he pursu'd his wench: and hath observ'd
    The smiles, and frowns, not daring to displease
    When at last, hath with his service won
    Her yielding heart; that she begins to dote
    Upon him, and can hold no longer out,