SCUDMORE

Good-morrow my deer Nevil. By Heaven you must excuse me; Come, I know You will not wrong my friendship and your manners to tempt me so. Nay Sir, Neither must you Depart in anger from this friendly hand: I swear, I love you better then all men, Equally with all Virtue in the world: Yet this would be a Key to led you to A prize of that importance. How sweetly does your friendship play with mine, And with a simple subtlety, steals my heart Out of my bosom. By the holiest Love That ever made a Story, you're a man With all good so replete, that I durst trust you Even with this secret, were it singly mine. Nay look you, this same fashion does not please me, You were not wont to make your visitation. So short and careless. God-morrow Sir, think I durst show it you. You shall not go, I cannot now redeem the fault I have made To such a friend, but in disclosing all. I die by Heaven, if you deny again, I starve for counsel; take it, look upon it; If you do not, It is and aequal plague, As if it had been known and published: For Godsake read, but with this Caution, By this right hand, by this yet unstained sword, Were you my father flowing in these waves, Or a deer son exhausted out of them, Should you betray this soul of all my Hope's, Like the two brothers (though love made em Stars) We must be never more seen both again. Read, while I tell the Story of my love, And found the Truth of her heroic Spirit, Whom eloquence could never flatter yet, Nor the best tongue of praises reach unto. The Maid there named, I met once on a Green Near to her Father's house, me thought she showed, For I did look on her, indeed no eye That owed a sensible member, but must dwell Awhile on such and object. The passing Horses, and the feeding Kine Stood still, and left their journeys and their food, The singing Birds were in contention Which should light nearest her; for her clear eyes Deceived even men, they were so Like bright skies. Near in a Rivulet, swum two beauteous Swans, Whiter then any thing, but her neck and hands, Which they left straight to comfort her: A Bull Being baiting on the Green for the Swains sport, She walking towards it, the vexed savage beast Ceased bellowing; the snarling Dogs were mute, And had enough to do to look on her, Whose face brought Concord, and and end of jars, Though Nature made em ever to have wars. Had there been Bears and Lyons, when she spoke They had been charmed too: For Grecians Lute Was rustic Music to her heavenly tongue, Whose sweetness e'ne cast slumbers on mine eyes, Soft as Content, yet would not let me sleep. She is the food, the sleep, the air I live by. Whar means my I prithee do not mock me, Married? O! that this stroke were Thunder to my breast, For Nevil thou hast spoke my heart in twain, And with the sudden whirlwind of thy breath, Hast ravished me out of a temperate soil, And set me under the read burning Zone. Yes, and how serious too: Come I'll t'the Temple, She shall not damn her self for want of counsel. Yes, now I'm fine, Married? It may be so, But women look too't, for if she prove untrue, The Devil take you all, that are his endue. Good-morrow to no living thing but one, And that is Nevil : O, the Vows, the Vows, The protestations and becoming Oaths Which she has uttered to me, so sweet, so many, As if she had been covetous, not to leave One word for other Lovers, which I pitied. She said indeed I did deserve em all; Her lips made swearings found of piety. So sweet and prettily they came from her: And yet this Morn she's married to a Lord. Lord, Lord, how often has she kissed this hand, Lost her self in my eyes, played with my have, And made me (a sin I am not, subject too) Go away proved, improved by her favors, And yet this Morn she's married to a Lord. The Bells were ringing as I came along. Pray hold there, I know it too well. The Tokens and the Letters I have still: The dangers I have passed for her deer sake, By day and night to satisfy her wishes; That Letter I so lately did receive, And yet this Morn she's married to a Lord: O memory, thou blessing to all men, Thou art my curse and cause of misery, That tellest me what I have been in her eyes, and what I am: as it is impossible To find one good in the whole word of women: But how I lose my self, and the remembrance Of my deer friend, who said he would meet me here. What is this Priest that walks before the Church? Why walk you here so early, Sir? Are there two? O. He is right worthy, and my well known friend. But Parson, if you marry Bellafront, The horror of thy Conscience shall exceed A Murderers; Thou shalt not walk alone, Nor eat, nor sleep, but a sad Lovers groans and curses, shall appear and fright thy soul: I tell thee Priest, they're sights, more terrible Then Ghosts or Sprights, of which old wives tell Tales, Thou shalt run mad, thou shalt be damned indeed. She is contracted Sir, nay married Unto another man, though it want form: And such strange passages and mutual Vows, Would make your short hair start through your black Cap, should you but hear it. Thou Pancridge Parson; O, for my friend Nevil, Some wile or other might remove this Priest, and give up breathing to cross their intent. Sir, do but you refuse To join em. Why look thee, there is Gold. I seldom knew't refused, yet by thy Coat; But where it would have been a cause of good. O hark they come, Nevil my friend, well I must something do: O, why should Music, which joys every partly, Strike such sharp killing discords to my heart? Canst thou this holy Church enter a Bride, And not a Coarse meeting these eyes of mine. O hold thy Thunder fast. Can there be such a soul in such a shape. My Love is subject of such misery, Such strange impossibilities and misfortune, That men will laugh at me, when I relate The Story of it, and conceive I lie. Why Madam that shall be, Lady in Posse, do Titles, Honours, and Fortune's, make you so forgetful? There is indeed, And Conscience too, old Worldly thou hast one; But for the other, wild Virginia, Black Africa, or the shaggy Scythia, Must send it over as a Merchandise, Ere thou show any here. You my Lords fine fool? No, nor you my Lord fools fool. My passion and my cause of grief's so great, That it hath drowned all worthy parts in me: As drink makes Virtues useless in a man, And with too much, kills natural heat in him, Or else I could not stand thus coldly tame, and see them enter; but with my drawn sword Should hail her by the hair unto the Altar, and Sacrifice her heart to wronged love. I'll follow, and unfold all in the Church: Alas, to what end, since her mind is changed, Had she been loyal, all the earthly Lords Could not have born her; so, what heinous sin Hath she committed, God should leave her then: I never dreamed of lying with my Mother, Nor wished my Father's death, nor hated Brother's; Nor did betray Trust, nor loved money better Then and accepted friend; No such base thought, Nor act unnatural, possessed this breast: Why am I thus rewarded women, women? He's mad by Heaven, that thinks you any thing But sensual Monsters, and is never wife Nor good, but when he hates you, as I now, I'll not come near one, none of your base sex Shall know me from this time, for all your Virtues are Like the Buzzes, growing in the fields, So Weakly fastened te'e, by Nature's hand, That thus much wind blows all away at once, You fillers of the world with Bastardy, Worse then Diseases you are subject too, Know I do hate you all, will write against you, and fight against you; I will eat no meat Dressed by a woman old or young, nor sleep Upon a bed, made by their still given hands; Yet once more must I see this Feminine Devil, When I will look her dead, speak her to hell; I'll watch my time, this day to doo't, and then I'll be in love with death, and readier still Cornets. His mortal stroke to take, then he to kill. Exit Scud. I would speak with the Lady Bellafront, From the young Lady Lucy. My Lady gave me charge of the delivery, And I must doo't my self, or carty it back. Blessed fate. O thou, whose words and actions seemed to me, As innocent as this smooth sleep, which hath Locked up thy powers: would thou hadst slept, when first Thou sentest and proferredst me beauty and love: I had been ignorant then of such a lose, Happy's that wretch in my opinion, That never owned scarce Jewels, or bright Sums, He can lose nothing but his constant wants: But speaklesse is his plague, that once had store, and from superfluous state falls to be poor: Such is my hellbred hap, cou worser Nature make So fair a superficies, to enclose So false a heart; This is Like gilded Tombs, Compacted of Jet Pillars, Marble stones, Which hide from's stinking Flesh, and rotten bones. Pallas so sat (methinks) in Hector's Tent; But time so precious and so dangerous Why do I lose thee? Madam, my Lady, Madam. That Letter Madam tells you. Can you read any thing then in this face? Stir not a foot, And stop your clamorous acclamations, Or by the bitterness of my fresh wrongs, I'll send your Ladyship to the Devil quick; I know the hazard I do undergo, and whatsoever after becomes of me, I'll make you sure first: I am come to speak, and speak I will freely, and to bring back Your Letters, and such things you sent; and then, I'll never see those deceiving eyes again. Not speak, yes woman, I will roar a loud, Call thee the falsest fair that ever breathed, Tell thee, that in this marriage, thou hast drowned All virtue, left to credit thy weak sex, which being (as t'were) committed to thy trust, Thou traitorously hast betrayed it thus. Did I entice, or ever send thee guists To allure thee, to reflect a beam on me? Nay, didst not thou thy self send and invent Passed human wit, our means of intercourse? Why dost thou then prove base unto thy self, Perjured and impious, know the good thou hast lost In my opinion; does outvalue far The airy honours thou art married to. For loves sake, no: Love is my surfeit, and is turned in me To a disease. What canst thou say, art thou not married? Pish, these are painted causes, till this Morn He lived not in this land, that durst accuse My integrity, of such and ignorance. But take your Letters here, your paper Vows, Your Picture, and your Bracelets: and if ever I built again upon a woman's faith, May sense forsake me: I will sooner trust Dice, or a reconciled enemy: O God, What and internal joy my heart has felt, Sitting at one of these same idle plays, When I have seen a Maids inconstancy Presented to the life; how glad my eyes Have stole about me, fearing least my looks Should tell the company contented there, I had a Mistress free of all such faults. Retain thee so, it is impossible, Art thou not married? 'Tis impossible, O no! I do despise thee, and will fly As far on earth as to the Antipodes, and by some learned Magician, whose deep art Can know thy residence on this Hemisphere; There I'll be placest, my feet joust against thine, To express the opposite Nature, which our heart Must henceforth hold. Would, would, would was there ever such strange creatures framed, Why dost thou speak such foolish senseless things? Can thy forsaking him redeem thy fault? No, I will never mend and ill with worse. Why this example will make Women false, When they shall hear it, that before were true, For after ill examples we do fly, But must be vowed to deeds of piety: O woman, woman, woman, woman, woman, The cause of future and Original sin, How happy (had you not) should we have been, False where you kiss, but murdering in your ire, Love all that woe, know all men you desire. Ungrateful, yet most impudent crave, Torturous as hell, insatiate as the graven: Lustful as Monkeys, grinning in your ease, Whom if we make not Idols, we near please. More vainly proud then fools, as ignorant; Baser then Parasites, Witches that enchant And make us senseless, to think death or life Is yours to give, when only our belief Does make you able to deceive us so, Begotten by Drunkards, to breed sin and woe. As many soul diseases hide your veins, as there are mischiefs coined in your quick brains; Not quick in wit, fit to perform least good, But to subvert whole States, shed Seas of blood; Twice as deceitful as are Crocodiles, For you betray both ways; with tears and smiles, Yet questionless there are as good, as bade: Hence, let me go. Pish do, the world will have one mischief less. Exit By my sad heart I was, and not a Tittle Of my relation to thee wrong or feigned. Ill terms my friend, this wit in any man, (For that but seasoned with discretion) Holds him in awe of all these blemishes, Free's him of envy, does Phylosophize His Spirit, that he makes no difference Betwixt man and man, betwixt Fortune's high and low, But as the thicker they with virtues grow, Freedom and bondage wit can make alone; So would by being left, and being loved, If I had any of it tempered so: But you have spoke all this condemning me, For having wit to speak against my self, But I'll be ruled by you in all. I am your property, my Engineer Prosper your purposes, shine thou eye of heaven, and make thie lowering Morn, a smiling Even. Exeunt You Sirrah, Exeunt Bell. Lucida, Kate. Is my lady Ninny awake yet? T'were but a whorish trick Sir. Marry God forbid Sir. In good Faith, I have been so troubled about this Gentleman's scurvy face (I take it) 'tis wonderful. Here Sir. At first Change I must tell her who I am? And at the second, I come away with her, & leave them dancing, and shall find you at the back door. I am your Scudmore. Soft Music. By heaven I am, Be ruled by me in all things. No my Gentlewoman. Bellafront, pish. Sir John you dote, This is a Devil in a Parsons coat. And may all true love have Like happy end, Women forgive me; Men, admire my Friend. Why can my Noble and wise friend, think still That what a woman saics, her heart does mean? Can you believe that she will kill his self. 'Tis a full hour since she spoke the word, and God forbid, that any woman's mind Should not be changed and changed in a long hour. She is by this time in her Lorldly arms, and Like pleased Juno, clasped by Jupiter, Forgets the plaints of poor mortality, Such state, such pride, as Poets show her in, Incensed with Jove's lose escapes upon the earth, She cast on me at our encountering; As cold and heavy, as a Rock of Ice In her love to me, which while I there stayed, My bitter and hight words resolved a little, (Just as the Sun does Ice) I softened her, and made her drown her fault in her own tears, But think you she holds this flexible vain: No, I me removed, and she's congealed again. WHereas you write, my Fortune's and my birth Made above yours, may be a real cause That I must leave you, know thou worthiest man, Thou hast a soul, whose plenteous wealth supplies All the lean wants blind Chance hath dealt to thee. Yet could I think, the Gods from all their store, Who never knew indigence unto their will, Would (out of all their stock of Virtue left, Or out of all new graces they can make) Make such another piece as Scudmore is, Then might he justly fear; but otherwise, Sooner the Masculine Element of Fire, Shall flame his Pyramids down to the Earth; Sooner her Mountains shall swell up to Heaven; Or softest April showers quench fires in Hell; Sooner shall Stars from this Circumference, Drop Like false fiery exhalation, Then I be false to vows made unto thee; In whom, outh never a fault: I never could see, But that you doubted once my constancy. If (what I feel) I could express in words, Methinks I could speak joy enough to men, To banish sadness from all love, forever: O thou that reconcil'st the faults of all That frothy sex, and in thy single self Confinest, nay hast engrossed Virtue enough To frame a spacious world of virtuous women; Hadst thou been the Beginning of thy sex. I think the Devil in the Serpents skin, Had wanted Cunning to overcome thy goodness, And all had lived and died in Innocency The white Original Creation. Knocks within. Whose there? Come in. O you have pierced my entrails with your words. And I must now explain all to your eyes, Read, and be happy in my happiness. 'Tis such a tedious rascal. So would we'e.