VINDICE

Duke: royal lecher; go, grey hayrde adultery, And thou his son as impious steeped as he: And thou his bastard true-begot in evil: And thou his Duchess that will do with Devil, Four exlent Characters—Oh that marrowless age, Would stuff the hollow Bones with damned desires, And stead of heat kindle infernal fires, Within the spendthrift veins of a dry Duke, A parched and juiceless luxur. Oh God! one That has scarce blood enough to live upon. And he to ryct it Like a son and heir? Oh the thought of that Turns my abused heartstrings into fret. Thou sallow picture of my poisoned lcue, My studies ornament, thou shell of Death, Once the bright face of my betrothed Lady, When life and beauty naturally filled out These ragged imperfections; When two-heauen-pointed Diamonds were set In those unsightly Rings;—then 'twas a face So far beyond the artificial shine Of any woman's bought complexion That the uprightest man, (if such there be, That sin but seven times a day) broke custom And made up eight with looking after her, O she was able to would made a Usurers son Melt all his patrimony in a kiss, And what his father fifty years told To have consumed, and yet his suit been cold: But o accursed Palace! Thee when thou Wertenberg appareled in thy flesh, The old Duke poisoned, Because thy purer partly would not consent Unto his palsey-lust, for old men lustful Do show Like young men angry, eager violent, Outbid Like their limited performances Oh beware and old man hight, and vicious Age as in gold in lust is covetous. Vengeance thou murders Quitrent, and whereby Thou shoust thy self Tenant to Tragedy, O keep thy day, hour, minute, I beseech, For those thou hast determined: hum: who ere knew Murder unpaid, faith give Revenge her endue Sha's kept touch hitherto—be merry, merry, Advance thee, Oh thou terror to fat folks To have their Costly three-pilde flesh worn of As bore as this—for banquets: ease and laughter, Can make great men as greatness goes by clay, But wise men little are more great then they? Brother welcome, What comfort bringest thou? how go things at Court? Puh, Thou playst upon my meaning prithee say Has that bald Madam, Opportunity? Yet thought upon's, speak are we happy yet? Thy wrongs and mine are for one scabbard fit. What is't may prove? Give me to taste. I; the Dukes Chamber But 'tis a marvel thourt not turned out yet! I reach you, for I know his heat is such, Were there as many Concubines as Ladies He would not be contained, he must fly out: I wonder how ill featured, vild proportioned. That one should be: if she were made for woman, Whom at the Insurrection of his lust He would refuse for once, heart, I think none, Next to a skull, though more unsound then one Each face he meets he strongly dotes upon. And therefore isle put on that knave for once, And be a right man then, a man a'th Time, For to be honest is not to be ith world, Brother isle be that strange composed fellow. Go too then, The smallst advantage fattens wronged men It may point out, occasion, if I meet her, I'll hold her by the foretop fast enough; Or Like the French Moale heave up hair and all, I have a habit that will fit it quaintly, Here comes our Mother. We must quoin. Women are apt you know to take false money, But I dare stake my soul for these two creatures Only excuse excepted that they'le swallow, Because their sex is easy in beleese. For since my worthy father's funeral, My life's unnaturally to me, even compelled As if I hued now when I should be dead. The Duke did much deject him. To much. And through disgrace oft smothered in his spirit, When it would mount, surely I think he died Of discontent: the Nobleman's consumption. Did he? lack,—you know all You were his midnight secretary. I'faith then father thou wast wise indeed, Wives are but made to go to bed and feed. Come mother, sister: yowl bring me onward brother? I'll quickly turn into another. What brother? am I far enough from my self? It will confirm me bold: the child a that Court, Let blushes dwelli'th Country impudence! Thou Goddess of the palace, Mistrs of Mistresses To whom the costly perfumed-people pray, Strike thou my forehead into dauntless Marble; Mine eyes to steady Saphires: turn my visage, And if I must needs glow, let me blush inward That this immodest season may not spy, That scholar in my cheeks, fool bashfulness. That Maid in the old time, whose flush of Grace Would never suffer her to get good clothes; Our maids are wiser; and are less ashamed, Save Grace the bawd I seldom hear Grace named! Pray let me not be doubted. With all my heart i'faith how dost sweet Musk-cat. When shall we lie together? O very well sir—I construe my self saucy! A bonesetter! A bawd my Lord, One that sets bones together. Fool, to abundance sir; I have been witness To the surrenders of a thousand virgins, And not so little, I have seen Patrimonies washed a pieces Fruit-fields turned into bastards, And in a world of Acres, Not so much dust endue to the heir was left too As would well gravel a petition Oh Dutch lust! fulsome lust! Drunken procrearion, which begets, so many drunkards; Some father dreads not (gone to bed in wine) to slide from the mother, And cling the daughter-in-law, Some Uncle's are adulterous with their Nieces, Brother's with brother's wives, Oh hour of Incest! Any kin now next to the Rim ath sister Is men meat in these days, and in the morning When they are up and dressed, and their mask on, Who can perceive this? save that eternal eye That see's through flesh and all, well:—If any thing be damned? It will be twelve a clock at night; that twelve Will never escape; It is the Judas of the hours; wherein, Honest salvation is betrayed to sin, My Lord? Secret? I never had that disease ath mother I praise my father: why are men made Close? But to keep thoughts in best, I grant you this Tell but some woman a secret over night, Your doctor may find it in the urinal ith morning, But my Lord. This Indian devil, Will quickly enter any man: but a Usurer, He prevents that, by entering the devil first. Possible! 'Tis a rare Phoenix who ere she be, If your desires be such, she so repugnant, In troth my Lord idem be revenged and marry her. A very fine religion? You have gint the Tang i'faith my Lord Make known the Lady to me, and my brain, Shall swell with strange Invention: I will move it Till I expire with speaking, and drop down Without a word to save me;—but isle work— O, my sister, my sister?— My Lord, I was thinking how I might begin As thus, o Lady—or twenty hundred devices, Her very bodkin will put a man in. Oh exlent well by sighed. My Lord I think so, I knew I had seen him some where— O me good Lord. Would, would, would. That's I my Lord. A pure novice? Gallantly carried; A pretty-perfume villain. Dost so my Lord? Let me alone then to Eclipse the fourth. True? Swear?—I hope your honour little doubts my faith. Cause you love swearing, slud I will. That will do well indeed my Lord. O. Now let me burst, I've eaten Noble poison, We are made strange fellows, brother, innocent villains, Wilt not be angry when thou hearst on't, thinkest thou? Ifayth thou shalt; swear me to foul my sister. Sword I durst make a promise of him to thee, Thou shalt dis-heire him, it shall be thine honour, And yet now angry froth is down in me, It would not prove the meanest policy In this disguise to try the faith of both, Another might have had the self same office, Some slave, that would have wrought effectually, I and perhaps overwrought em, therefore I, Being thought travailed, will apply my self, Unto the self same form, forget my nature, As if no partly about me were kin to em, So touch' em,—though I durst a most for good, Venture my lands in heaven upon their good. The Next of Italy commends him to you, Our mighty expectation, the Dukes son. So may you Lady: One that is Like to be our sudden Duke, The Crown gapes for him every tide, and then Commander over us all, do but think on him, How blessed were they now that could pleasure him Even with any thing almost. Tut, one would let a little of that go too And never be seen in't: never be seen it, mark you, Idem wink and let it go— Marry but I would I hope, I know you would too, If youd that blood now which you gave your daughter, To her indeed 'tis, this wheel comes about, That man that must be all this, perhaps ere morning (For his white father do's but mould away) Has long desired your daughter. Nay but he are me, He desires now that will command hereafter, There before be wise, I speak as more a friend To you then him; Madam, I know you're poor, And lack the day, there are too many poor Ladies already Why should you vex the number? 'tis despised, Live wealthy, rightly understand the world, And chide away that foolish—Country girl Keeps company with your daughter, chastity, No, but a thousand Angels can, Men have no power, Angels must work you too't, The world descends into such baseborn evils That forty Angels can make fourscore devils, There will be fools still I perceive, still fool. Would I be poor dejected, scorned of greatness, Swept from the Palace, and see other daughters Spring with the dew ath Court, having mine own So much desired and loved—by the Dukes son, No, I would raise my state upon her breast And call her eyes my Tenants, I would count My yearly maintenance upon her cheeks: Take Coach upon her lip, and all, her parts Should keep men after men, and I would ride, In pleasure upon pleasure: You took great pains for her, once when it was, Let her requite it now, though it be but some You brought her forth, she may well bring you home, Not I hope, already? Je'en quake to proceed, my spirit turns edge? I fear me she's vnmotherd, yet isle venture, That woman is all male, whom none can Enter? What think you now Lady, speak are you wiser? What said advancement to you: thus it said! The daughters f l lifts up the mother's head: Did it not Madame? but isle swear it does In many places, tut, this age fears no man, 'Tis no shame to be bade, because 'tis common. The comfort on't! I keep the best for last, can these persuade you To forget heaven—and— O! Oh suffering heaven with thy invisible finger, Ene at this Instant turn the precious side Of both mine eyeballs inward, not to see my self, Oh you're a kind Madman; Your words will sting, Spoke truer then you meant it, Oh she's yonder. Meet her: troops of celestial Soldiers guard her heart. Yond dam has devils enough to take her partly, Prettily put by. Most right i'faith. Faith bade enough in both, Were I in earnest as I'll seem no less? I wonder Lady your own mother's words, Cannot be taken, nor stand in full force. It's honestic you urge; what's honesty? It's but heavens beggar; and what woman is so foolish to keep honesty, And be not able to keep herself? No, Times are grown wiser and will keep less charge, A Maid that has small portion now intends, To break up house, and live upon her friends How blessed are you, you have happiness alone, Others must fallen to thousands, you to one, Sufficient in himself to make your forehead Dazzle the world with Jewels, and petitionary people Start at your presence. Slid how can you lose your honour? To deal with my Lords Grace, Heel add more honour to it by his Title, Your Mother will tell you how. Oh think upon the pleasure of the Palace, Secured ease and state; the stirring meats, Ready to move out of the dishes, that even now quicken when their eaten, Banquets abroad by Torchlight, Musics, sports, Bareheaded vassals, that had never the fortune To keep on their own Hats, but let horns were em, Nine Coaches waiting—hurry, hurry, hurry. I to the Devil, toth' Duke by my faith. Oh Angels clap your wings upon the skies, And give this Virgin Crystal plaudities? Indeed I'll tell him so; Oh more uncivil, more unnatural, Then those base-titled creatures that look downward, Why do's not heaven tnrne black, or with a frown Undo the world—why do's not earth start up, And strike the sins that tread upon't—o; Wertenberg not for gold and women; there would be no damnation, Hell would look Like a Lords Great Kitchen without fire in't; But 'twas decreed before the world began, That they should be the hooks to catch, at man. O my Lord. In all but in Desire. The words I brought, Might well have made indifferent honest, nought, A right good woman in these days in change, Into white money with less labour far, Many a Maid has turned to Mahomet, With easier working; I durst undertake Upon the pawn and forfeit of my life. With half those words to flat a Puritans wife, But she is Close and good;—yet it's a doubt by this time; o the mother, the mother? Now must I blister my soul, be forsworn, Or shame the woman that received me first, I will be true, thou livest not to proclaim, Spoke to a dying man, shame ha no shame. My Lord. Heres none but I my Lord. Comfort. The Maid being dull, having no mind to travel, Into unknown lands, what did me I straight, But set spurs to the Mother; golden spurs, Will put her to a false gallop in a trice, In a fine place my Lord—the unnatural mother, Did with her tonge so hard be set her honour, That the poor fool was struck to silent wonder, Yet still the maid Like and unlighted Taper, Was cold and chased, save that her Mother's breath, Did blow fire on her checks, the girl departed, But the good ancient Madam half mad, threw me These promising words, which I took deeply note of; My Lord shall be most welcome, I will sway mine own, Women with women can work best alone, No thats true, for you shall have one woman knit more in a hour then any man can Rauell again in seven and twenty year. Office my Lord marry if I might have my wish I would have one that was never begged yet, Yes my Lord I could pick out another office yet, nay and keep a horse and drab vppont, Why I would desire but this my Lord, to have all the fees behind the Arras; and all the farthingales that fall plump about twelve a clock at night upon the Rushes. O 'tis and unknown thing my Lord, I wonder ta's been missed so long? My loved Lord; O shall I kill him ath wrong-side now, no! Sword thou wast never a backbiter yet, I'll Pierce him to his face, he shall die, looking upon me, Thy veins are swelled with lust, this shall unfill e'm, Great men were Gods, if beggars could not kill e'm, Forgive me heaven, to call my mother wicked, O lessen not my days upon the earth I cannot honour her, by this I fear me Her tongue has turned my sister into use. I was a villain not to be forsworn: To this our lecherous hope, the Dukes son, For Lawyers, Merchant's, some divines and all, Count beneficial perjury a sin small, It shall go hard yet, butile guard her honour And keep the ports sure? What in the name of knavery? His bastard? O sin foul and deep, Great faults are winckt at when the Duke's a sleep, See, see, here comes the Spurio. Unbraced: two of his valiant bawds with him. Oh There's a wicked whisper; hell is in his care Stay let's observe his passage— Puh I'm shallow vet, Too sparing and too modest, shall I tell thee, If every trick were told thats dealt by night There are few here that would not blush out right. Whose this comes, The Dukes son up so late,—brother fallen back, And you shall learn, some mischief,—my good Lord. Heart, and hell. I would no way now to cross it, but to kill him. Idem almost forgotten—the bastard! This night, this hour—this minute, now. And Like strong poison eats, Into the Duke your father's forehead. He makes horn royal. This is the fruit of two beds. That passage he trod warily: And hushed his villains every step he took. Take e'm finely, finely, now. Sofly my Lord and you may take e'm twisted. O 'twill be glorious, To kill e'm doubled, when their heaped, be soft my Lord. 'Tis now good policy to be from sighed, His vicious purpose to our sisters honour, Is crossed beyond our thought. O 'twas far beyond me. But since it fell so;—without frightful word, Would he had killed him, twould have eased our swords. Oh sweet, delectable, rare, happy, ravishing, Byth' Mass I think I did too, Then I'll divide it to thee,—the old Duke Thinking my outward shape, and inward heart Are cut out of one piece; (for he that prates his secrets, His heart stands ath out side) hires me by price: To greet him with a Lady, In some fit place vaylde from the eyes ath Court, Some darkened blushless Angle, that is guilty Of his forefathers lustest, and great-folks riots, To which (I easily to maintain my shape) Consented, and did wish his impudent grace To meet her here in this vn-sunned-lodge, Wherein 'tis night at noon, and here the rather, Because unto the torturing of his soul, The Bastard and the Duchess have appointed Their meeting too in this luxurious circle, Which most afflicting sighed will kill his eyes Before we kill the rest of him. True, but the violence of my joy forgotten it. O at that word, I'm lost again, you cannot find me yet I'm in a throng of happy Apprehensions. He's suited for a Lady, I have took care For a delicious lip, a sparkling eye, You shall be witness brother; Be ready stand with your hat off. Madame his grace will not be absent long. Secret? never doubt us Madame? 'twill be worth Three velvet gowns to your Ladyship—known? Few Ladies respect that? disgrace, a poor thin shell, 'Tis the best grace you have to do it well, I'll save your hand that labour, isle unmask you? Art thou beguiled now? tut, a Lady can, At such all hid, beguile a wiser man, Have I not fitted the old surfetter With a quaint piece of beauty, age and bore bone Are ere allied in Actium; here's and eye, Able to tempt a greatman—to serve God, A pretty hanging lip, that has for God now to dissemble Me thinks this mouth should make a swearer tremble. A drunkard clasp his teeth, and not undo e'm, To suffer wet damnation to run through e'm. Heres a cheek keeps her colour let the wind go whistle, Spout Rain, we fear thee not, be hight or cold Alls one with us; and is not he absurd, Whose Fortune's are upon their faces set, That fear no other God but wind and wet. The very same, And now me thinks I cold even chide my self, For doting on her beauty, though her death Shall be revenged after no common Actium; Do's the Silkworm expend her yellow labours For thee? for thee dos she undo herself? Are Lordships sold to maintain Ladyships For the poor benefit of a bewitching minute? Why dos yond fellow falsify hie-waies And put his life between the Judges lips, To refine such a thing keeps horse and men To beat their valours for her? Surely wee're all mad people, and they Whom we think are, are not, we mistake those, 'Tis we are mad in scence, they but in clothes. Dos every proud and self-affecting Dame Camphire her face for this? and dgrieue her Maker In sinful baths of milk,—when many and infant starves, For her superfluous outside, all for this? Who now bids twenty pound a night, prepares Music, perfumes, and sweetmeats, all are hushed, Thou mayest lie chased now! it were fine me thinks: To have thee seen at Revels, forgetful feasts, And unclean Brothells; sure twould fright the sinner And make him a good coward, put a Reveller, Out off his Antic amble And cloy and Epicure with empty dishes? Here might a scornful and ambitious woman, Look through and through her self,—see Ladies, with false forms, You deceive men, but cannot deceive worms. Now to my tragic business, look you brother, I have not fashioned this only—for show And useless property, no, it shall bear a partly Even in it own Revenge. This very skull, Whose Mistress the Duke poisoned, with this drug The mortal curse of the earth; shall be revenged In the Like strain, and kiss his lips to death, As much as the dumb thing can, he shall feel: What fails in poison, weel supply in steel. So 'tis laid on: now come and welcome Duke, I have her for thee, I protest it brother: Me thinks she makes almost as fair a sine As some old gentlewoman in a Periwig? Hide thy face now for shame, thou hadst need have a Mask now 'Tis vain when beauty flows, but when it fleets This would become graves better then the streets. Peace, let's observe what company he brings, And how he dos absent e'm, for you know Heel wish all private,—brother fallen you back a little, With the bony Lady. So, so,—now 9. years vengeance crowd into a minute! Privately rid forth, He strives to make sure work on't—your good grace? Faith my Lord a Country Lady, a little bashful at first as most of them are, but after the first kiss my Lord the worst is passed with them, your grace knows now what you have to do; sha's somewhat a graven look with her—but— Have at all. Back with the Torch; brother raise the perfumes. royal villain, white devil; Brother—place the Torch here, that his affrighted eye balls May start into those hollows, Duke; dost know Yond dreadful vizard, view it well, 'tis the skull Of Gloriana, whom thou poysonedst last. Didst not know that till now? Villains all three?—the very ragged bone, Has been sufficiently revenged. Alas poor Lecher in the hands of knaves, A slavish Duke is baser then his slaves. Hadst any lest. Your tongue? 'twill teach you to kiss closer, Not Like a Flobbering Dutchman, you have eyes still: Look monster, what a Lady hast thou made me, My once betrothed wife. T'is I, it's Vindici, 'tis I. He had his tongue, yet grief made him die speechless. Puh, 'tis but early yet, now isle begin To stick thy soul with Ulcers, I will make Thy spirit grievous soar, it shall not rest, But Like some pestilent man toss in thy breast-(mark me duke) Thou'rt a renowned, high, and mighty Cuckold. Thy Bastard, thy bastard rides a hunting in thy brow. Nay to afflict thee more, Here in this lodge they meet for damned clips, Those eyes shall see the in cest of their lips. Villain? Nay heaven is joust, scorns are the hires of scorns, I never knew yet Adulterer without horns. Hark the music, Their banquet is prepared, they're coming— Nay faith, weel have you hushed now with thy dagger Nail down his tongue, and mine shall keep possession About his heart, if he but gasp he die, We dread not death to quittance injuries;—Brother, If he but wink, not brooking the foul object, Let our two other hands tear up his lids, And make his eyes Like Comets shine through blood, When the bade bleeds, then is the Tragedy good, The Brook is turned to blood. It our friend indeed, It's state in Music for a Duke to bleed: The Dukedom wants a head, though yet unknown, As fast as they peep up, lets cut they down. My honoured Lord. Not know me my Lord, your Lordship cannot choose. Why the easier to be known, my Lord. Mum, for theres a doom would make a woman dum, Missing the bastard next him, the wind's comes about, Now 'tis my brother's turn to stay mine to go out. How that great-villain puts me to my shifts. 'Twill be the quainter fallacy; but brother, Sfoot what use will he put me to now thinkest thou? Now the Duke is dead, the realm is clad in clay: His death being not yet known, under his name The people still are governed; well, thou his son Art not long-lived, thou shalt not joy his death: To kill thee then, I should most honour thee; For twould stand firm in every men belief, Thou'st a kind child, and only dyedst with grief. Why I'll bear me in some strain of melancholy, And string my self with heavy—sounding Wire, Like such and Instrument, that speaks merry things sadly. I'll turn my self, and then— Salute him, fear not me. How done you? God you God den. Why, going to Law. Yes, to look long upon ink and black buckrom—I went me to law in Anno Quadragesimo secundo, and I waded out of it, in Anno sextagesimo tertio. I have known those that have been five and fifty and all about Pullin and Pigs. Study why to think how a great rich man lies a dying, and a poor Cobbler toales the bell for him? how he cannot de partly the world, and see the great chest-stand before him, when he lies speechless, how he will point you readily to all the boxes, and when he is passed all memory, as the gosseps guess, then thinks he of forffetures and obligations, nay when to all men's hearings he whurles and rotles in the throat he's bus sie threatening his poor Tenants? and this would last me now some seven years thinking or there about? but, I have a Conceit a coming in picture upon this, I draw it my self, which i'faith la I'll present to your honour, you shall not chosen but Like it for your Lordship shall give me nothing for it, No, why Ime sure the whore will be liked well enough. Coward indeed. What did your honour. Has not heaven and ear? Is all the lightning wasted? Full mad, he shall not live To see the Moon change. Nay even what you will—you're put to't brother? I, a Revenger. Thats my hope my Lord. I'll doom him. Indeed, I thank you. It well conveyed, upon a sudden wit. Or else, let not us live. Your honours Vassals. Oh thou almighty patience, 'tis my wonder, That such a fellow, impudent and wicked, Should not be cloven as he stood: Or with a secret wind burst open! Is there no thunder left, or is't kept up In stock for heavier vengeance, there it goes! But I have found it, 'Twill hold, 'tis sure, thanks, thanks to any spirit, That mingled it amongst my inventions. 'Tis found, and good, thou shalt partake it, I'm hired to kill my self. Prithee mark it, And the old Duke being dead, but not conveyed, For he's already missed too, and you know: Murder will peep out of the closest husk. What say you then to this device, If we dressed up the body of the Duke. You're quick, you ave reached it. And being in drink, as you have published him, To lean him on his elbow, as if sleep had caught him: Which claims most interest in such sluggy men. Neither, Oh thanks, it is substantial For that disguise being on him, which I wore, It will be thought I, which he calls the Pandar, did kill the Duke, & fled away in his apparel, leaving him so disguised, to avoid swift pursuit. Nay doubt not 'tis in grain, I warrant it hold colour. But by the way too, now I think on't, brother, Let's conjure that base devil out of our Mother. Oh thou? for whom no name is bade enough. Wicked unnatural Parents. In vain. That breast, Is turned to Quarled poison. I How dost usurp that title now by fraud For in that shell of mother breeds a bawd. Ah is't possible, Thou only, you powers on High, That women should dissemble when they die. Did not the Dukes son direct A fellow, of the world's condition, hither, That did corrupt all that was good in thee: Made thee uncivilly forget thy self, And work our sister to his lust. O I'm in doubt, Whither I'm my self, or no, Stay, let me look again upon this face. Who shall be saved when mother's have no grace. I was the man, Defy me, now? lets see, do't modestly. In that disguise, I sent from the Dukes son, Tried you, and found you base mettle, As any villain might have done. Oh nimble in damnation, quick in tune, There is no devil could strike fire so soon: I am confuted in a word. A mother to give aim to her own daughter. Nay and you draw tears once, go you to bed, Wet will make iron blush and change to read: Brother it reins, 'twill spoil your dagger, house it. Nay I'll kiss you now: kiss her brother? Lets marry her to our souls, wherein's no lust, And honorably love her. For honest women are so sild and rare, 'Tis good to cherish those poor few that are. O you of easy wax, do but imagine Now the disease has left you, how leprously That Office would have cling'd unto your forehead, All mother's that had any graceful hue, Would have worn masks to hide their face at you: It would have grown to this, at your foul name; Greene-collour'd maids would have turned read with shame? There had been boiling led again, The dukes sons great Concubine: A drab of State, a cloth a silver slut, To have her train born up, and her soul trail i'th dirt; great. Oh common madness: Ask but the thriuingst harlot in cold blood, She give the world to make her honour good, Perhaps yowl say but only to'th Dukes son, In private; why, she first begins with one, Who afterwards to thousand proves a whore: Break Ice in one place, it will crack in more. And well remembered, joy's a subtle self, I think man's happiest, when he forgets himself: Farewell once dried, now holy-watered Mead, Our hearts wear Feathers, that before wore Led. You make me proud ont. I for the love of heaven, to that true maid. Why that was motherly said. But sirrah dos the Dukes son come single? Ah the fly-flop of vengeance beat they to pieces? here was the sweetest occasion, the fittest hour, to have made my revenge familiar with him, show him the body of the Duke his father, and how quaintly he died Like a Politician in hugger mugger, made no man acquainted with it, and in Catastrophe slain him over his father's breast, and o I'm mad to lose such a sweet opportunity. They may if they can paint so well? Content, I'm for any weather? heart step Close, here he comes? Mass there's the slave indeed my Lord; 'Tis a good child, he calls his Father slave. But my Lord. Shall we kill him now he's drunk? Why then he will never live to be sober? But being so full of liquour, I fear he will put out all the fire, Troth so he has, and he has paid well fort. Sa, sa, sa: thump, there he lies. That's a jest. Oh ascall was he not ashamed, To put the Duke into a greasy doublet. Marry that do I. O my Lord. That will be the best way my Lord, to clear us all: lets cast about to be clear. Thus much by wit a deep Revenger can: When murders known to be the clearest man We're fordest off, and with as bold and eye, Survey his body as the standers by. Confirmde. You've sentenced well. Could you not stick: see what confession does? Who would not lie when men are hanged for truth? So, one may see by this, How foreign markets go: Courtiers have feet ath nines, and tongues ath twellues, They flatter Dukes and Dukes flatter themselves. He were and Ass then i'faith? Revels. I, that's the word, we are firm yet, Strike one strain more, and then we crown our wit. My Lords; be all of Music, strike old gricfes into other countries That flow in too much milk, and have faint livers, Not daring to stab home their discontents: Let our hid flames break out, as fire, as lightning, To blast this villainous Dukedom: vexed with sin; Wind up your souls to their full height again. You shall have all enough:—Revels are towards, And those few Nobles that have long suppressed you, Are busied to the furnishing of a Mask: And do affect to make a pleasant tail ont, The Masking suits are fashioning, now comes in That which must glad us all—we to take pattern Of all those suits, the colour, trimming, fashion, Even to and undistinguished hair almost: Then entering first, observing the true form, Within a strain or two we shall find leisure, To steal our swords out handsomely, And when they think their pleasure sweet and good, In amid of all their joys, they shall sighs blood. We're gone, all done and passed. Let that alone, By one and one their strengths shall be drunk down, Mark, Thunder? Dost know thy kue, thou big-voyc'st crier? Dukes groans, are thunders watchwords, Come lets away, no lingering. No power is angry when the lustful die, When thunderclaps, heaven likes the tragedy. Pistolls, treason, murder, help, guard my Lord the Duke. Alas, the Duke is murdered. Sister y'aue sentenced most direct, and true, The Laws a woman, and would she were you: Mother I must take leave of you. I Intend speedy travail. O fie, fie, that's the wrong end my Lord. 'Tis mere impos sible that a mother by any gifts should become a bawd to her own Daughter! Lady the best of wishes to your sex. Fair skins and new gowns, O from a deer and worthy friend, mighty! The Dukes son! It is the sweetest Box, That ere my nose came nigh, The finest drawn-work cuff that ere was worn, I'll love this blow for ever, and this cheek Shall still hence forward take the wall of this. O Ime a above my tonge: most constant sister, In this thou hast right honourable shown, Many are called by their honour that have none, Thou art approved for ever in my thoughts. It is not in the power of words to taint thee, And yet for the salvation of my oath, As my resolve in that point; I will lay, Hard siege unto my Mother, though I know, A Sire's tongue could not bewitch her so. Mass fitly here she comes, thanks my disguise, Madame good of ernoone. Holla. True, for most there are as proud as he for his heart i'faith who'd fit at home in a neglected room, Dealing her short-liu'de beauty to the pictures, That are as useless as old men, when those Poorer in face and fortune then herself, Walk with a hundred Acres on their backs, Fair Meadows cut into Green foreparts—o It was the greatest blessing ever happened to women; When Farmers sons agreed, and met again, To wash their hands, and come up Gentlemen; The commonwealth has flourished ever since, Lands that were meat by the Rod, that labors spared, Tailors ride down, and measure em by the yard; Fair trees, those comely foretops of the Field, Are cut to maintain head-tires—much untold, All thrives but Chastity, she lies a cold, nay shall I come nearer to you, mark but this: Why are there so few honest women, but because it's the poorer profession, that's accounted best, thats best followed, least in trade, least in fashion, and thats not honesty believe it, and do but note the love and dejected price of it: Lose but a Pearl, we search and cannot brook it. But that once gone, who is so mad to look it. Lose but a Pearl, we search and cannot brook it. But that once gone, who is so mad to look it. O, that's good manners my Lord, the Mother for her age must go foremost you know. When his pleasure conducts him this way. My Lord my Lord. Shadows the Duchess— Oh 'tis able, to make a man spring up, & knock his forehead Against yond siluar seeling. Then those that did eat are eaten. Thou shalt not lose that sighed for all thy Duke-doom. What? is not thy tongue eaten out yet? Then weel invent a silence? brother stifle the Torch, 'Tis food to some my Lord. There are old men at the present, that are so poisoned with the affectatio ̄ of law-words, (having had many suits can vast,) that their common talk is nothing but Barbery Latin: they cannot so much as pray, but in law, that their sins may be removed, with a writ of Error, and their souls fetched up to heaven, with a sasarara. In picture my Lord. Marry this it is —A usuring Father to be boiling in hell, and his son and Heir with a Whore dancing over him. And as for the son and heir, he shall be and eyefore to no young Revellers, for he shall be drawn in cloth of gold breeches. Oh true I cry you heartly mercy I hnow the reason, for some of'em had rather be damned indeed, the ̄ damned in colours. Money, ho, ho, Tas been my want so long, 'tis now my scoff. Iue ene forgotten what colour silvers off, I get good clothes, Of those that dread my humour, and for table-room, I feed on those that cannot be rid of me, Oh mine eyes, Almost struck blind, This bright unusual shine, to me seems proud, I dare not look till the sun be in a cloud, The better for you rasking. Ime covetous, To know the villain, All this is I. Did you brother. He shall furely die that did it. Would you not my Lord, It wondrous honorably done, Out slave. Vindice my Lord. I'faith 'tis a sweet shower, it dos much good, The fruitful grounds, and meadows of her soul, Has been long dry: pour down thou blessed Due, Rise Mother, troth this shower has made you higher. So, so, he leans well, take heed you wake him not bro there Thats a good lay, for I must kill my self? Brother thats I: that sits for me: do you mark it, And I must stand ready here to make away my self yonder—I must fit to be killed, and stand to kill my self, I could varry it not so little as thrice over again, tas some eight returns Like Michelmas Term. Even newly my Lord, joust as your Lordship entered now? a bout this place we had notice given he should be, but in some Puh, I warrant you my Lord, weel stiflle in our breathes. And leave none to warm your Lordship's Gols withal; For he that die drunk, falls into hell fire Like a Bucket a water, qush qush. Yowl bear us out my Lord? Ha lost, he may. How—his lips by'th mass they be. That Nobleman, has been ith Country, for he dos not lie? Why it hits, passed the apprehension of indifferent wits. Post-horse would would. Come my Lords, Prepare for deeds, let other times have words. Surgeons, Surgeons,—heart dos he breath so long. Look to my Lord the Duke-a vengeance throttle him. Confess thou murderous and unhollowed man, Didst thou kill all these? How came the Duke slain then; New marrow no I cannot be expressed, How fairs my Lord the Duke. Air Gentlemen, air, Now thoult not prate ont, it Vindice murdered thee, Murdered thy Father. And I am he-tell nobody, so so, the Dukes departed, My Lord was unlikely, Your hair, will make the silver age again, When there was fewer but more honest men, The rape of your good Lady has been quited, With death on death. All for your graces good we may be bold to speak it now, It somewhat witty carried though we say it. It we two murdered him, How? on us? I to come about; May not we set as well as the Dukes son, Thou hast no conscience, are we not revenged? Is there one enemy left alive amongst those? 'Tis time to die, when we are our selves our foes. When murders shut deeds Close, this curse does seal they, If none disclose' em they them selves reveal they! This murder might have slept in tongueless brass, But for our selves, and the world died and ass; Now I remember too, here was Piato. Brought forth a knavish sentence once, no doubt (said he) but time Will make the murderer bring forth himself? 'Tis well he died, he was a witch, And now my Lord, since we are in for ever: This work was ours which else might have been slipped, And if we list we could have Nobles clipped, And go for beggars, but we hate we have enough, Mother turned our Sister true, after a nest of No, that shall put you in my Lord. O happiness! He prays well for himself. Mark, there, there, that step, now to the Duchess, This their second meeting, writes the Duke Cuckold With new additions, his horns newly revived: Night! thou that lookest Like funeral Heralds fees Torn down betimes ith morning, thou hangest fitly To Grace those sins that have no grace at all, Now 'tis full sea a bed over the world, Theres juggling of all sides, some that were Maids Even at Sun set are now perhaps ith Toale-booke, This woman in immodest thin apparel: Lets in her friend by water, here a Dame Cunning, nails leather-hinges to a door, To avoid proclamation, Now Cuckolds are a quoining, apace, apace, apace, apace? And careful sisters spin that thread ith night, That does maintain them and their bawds ith day! Well I must suit my tongue to his desires, What colour so ere they be; hoping at last To pile up all my wishes on his breast, Hark. Law you now sir. Oh marble impudence! will you confess now? None else i'faith my Lord nay it well manage, Heart wast not for your good my Lord?