JOYLESS

Alas, I bring Sorrow too much with me to fill one house, In the sad number of my family. You speak well of him: Yet I may fear, my sons long grown disease Is such he hath not met with. My son's disease Grows not that way. How fell she mad? For painting, or new fashions. I cannot think for the Philosophers stone. It he was mad then. Would all were well. 'Tis much. We do you say, were you one of his Patients. But pray, has he the art To cure a husbands Jealousy? But still you name no Party, pray how long, Good master Blaze, has this so famous doctor Whom you so well set out, been a professor? For the most partly It is only inclining still to worse, As he grows more in days; by all the best Conjectures we have met with in the country, 'Tis found a most deep melancholy. Of five and twenty Sir. Never, Not she unto her grave; nor I, till then, Knew what a sadness meant; though since, I have In my sons sad condition, and some crosses In my late marriage, which at further time I may acquaint you with. Diverse years since; for we had hope a wife Might have restrained his traveling thoughts, and so Have been a means to cure him; but it failed us. You have now, Sir, found the question, which I think Will led you to the ground of his distemper. In tender years he always loved to read Reports of travails, and of voyages; And when young boys, Like him, would tire themselves With sports, and pastimes, and restore their spirits Again by meat and sleep; he would whole days And nights (sometime by stealth) be on such books As might convey his fancy round the world. When he grew up towards twenty, His mind was all on fire to be abroad; Nothing but travail still was all his aim; There was no voyage or foreign expedition Be said to be in hand, but he made suit To be made one in it His mother and My self opposed him still in all, and strongly Against his will, still held him in; and won Him into marriage; hoping that would call In his extravagant thoughts, but all prevailed not, Nor stayed him (though at home) from travailing So far beyond himself, that now too late, I wish he had gone abroad to meet his fate. Yet there's more: his wife Sir. Alas the danger is they will have none, He takes no joy in her; and she no comfort In him: for though they have been three years wed, They are yet ignorant of the marriage bed, Indeed she's full of passion, which she utters By the effects, as diversely, as several Objects reflect upon her wandering fancy, Sometime in extreme weepings, and anon In vehement laughter; now in sullen silence, And presently in loudest exclamations. Some other time for her. But my son, my son sir? How does my son? His fits upon him? Into your chamber. I do not Like your liking of men's persons. And let no looser words, or wandering look Bewray and intimation of the slight Regard you bear your husband, lest I send you Upon a further pilgrimage, than he Feigns to convey my son. You would have some of't would you, to have hope T'out-live your husband by't. Would I had given you half my land 'twere done. You may find that Without inquiry: Cease your idle questions. You'll hold your peace, I would they could else. Into your Chamber, get you in I charge you. Not yet! Monstrous. She shall not. I must be Sir. He has not drunk so deep a draught this twelvmonth. Alas I fear. See he begins to sink. His Ring! what Ring? how came she by't? He courts her. I say restore the Ring, and back with me. To the Lord that sent it. My Lord I would entreat we may return; I fear my wife's not well. The air of London Hath tainted her obedience already: And should the Play but touch the vices of it, She'd learn and practice them. Let me beseech Your Lord ships reacceptance of the un- Merited favour that she wears here, and Your leave for our departure. Indeed 'tis a high point of honour in A Lord to keep a private Gentleman's wife From him. Here are we fallen through the Doctors fingers. Into the Lords hands. Fate deliver us. Ex. omnes. Kissing indeed is Prologue to a Play, Composed by devil, and acted by the Children Of his black Revels, may hell take ye for't. Do you Like it? Very well observed. Would you have it so? Here's goodly stuff! She's in the Antipodes too. I am abused on that side too. If you loose yours the while, where's my advantage? She'll fallen in love with the Actor, and undo me. Do you approve of such a law? Do's it? Give me leave Now to be gone my Lord, though I leave her Behind me; she is mad, and not my wife, And I may leave her. I must not live here always, that's my comfort. Exit. But it is late, and these long intermissions By banqueting and Courtship betwixt the Acts Will keep back the Catastrophe of your play, Until the morning light. And then in amid of Scenes You interrupt your Actors; and tie them To lengthen time in silence, while you hold Discourse, by by. So, so, his banquet works with him. Will you but give the Actors leave to speak, They may have done the sooner? A sweet occasion! 'Tis very good, the play begins to please me. You will not sure, will you turn Actor too? Pray do, be put in for a share amongst em? The Players will quickly Show you, if you perform your partly; perhaps They may want one to act the whore amongst they. My Lord, She is too fair it seems in your opinion, For me, therefore if you can find it lawful, Keep her; I will be gone. Nay I have done — Whistles Fortune my foe. What of him? You were best beg him of his Lord. Diana yet be wise, bear not the name Of sober chastity to play the beast in. I now could wish my son had been as far In the Antipodes as he thinks himself, Ere I had run this hazard. Nothing, nothing. — Here's a City Enter Peregine and Doctor. Like to be well governed then.— Would you were pleased, To cease your housewifry in spinning out The Play at length thus. What's that to you my Lady? Within. Dismiss the Court. What oversight Was there? Sure, sure, you shall not, shall you? How dare you talk so? Byplay kneels, and kisses Peregrines hand. You were best to fly out of the window to him. I could find in my heart to Quoit thee at him. Would, would, would. I hope his hotter zeal to's actors Will drive out my wives love-heat. A queen? How, how? Heaven grant me patience, And send us to my Country home again. Sure your Lordship Means not to make your house our prison. I both wait, and watch, Never was man so mastered by his match. Ex. omn. Diana! ho! where are you? she is lost. Here is no further passage. All's made fast. This was the Bawdy way, by which she scaped My narrow watching. Have you privy posterns Behind the hangings in your strangers Chambers? She's lost from me, for ever. Why then seek I? Oh my dull eyes, to let her slip so from ye, To let her have her lustful will upon me! Is this the Hospitality of Lords? Why, rather, if he did intend my shame, And her dishonour, did he not betray me From her out of his house, to travail in The bore suspicion of their filthiness; But hold me a nose-witness to its rankness? No: This is sure the Lordlier way; and makes The act more glorious in my sufferings. Oh— May my hight curses on their melting pleasures, Cement them so together in their lust, That they may never partly, but grow one monster. Is't gone So far do you think? For getting me A child? why I am none of his great Lordship's tenants, Nor of his followers, to keep his Bastards. Pray stay a little. Tell him I take it well; and thank him. I did before despair of Children I. But isle go wi'yee, and thank him. But tell me first: were you their Bawd that speak this? Nothing I, But play with't. Did you see the passages Of things? I ask, were you their Bawd? Lords actions all are lawful. And how? and how? Nay, pray thee out with't. To bed! well on. Who dost thou speak of? Go bring me to hem then. Bawd will you go? Your Lords Bawd, and my wives. Brave, brave, and monstrous! Where is my wife? J'me most insufferably abused. Jf fire, or water, poison, cord, or steel, Or any means be found to do it: isle do it; Not to please her, but rid me of my torment. Ex. Joy, and Byp. No, I'll meet her with more joy then I received Upon our marriage-day. My better soul. Let me again embrace thee. Oh my Lord, My Lord, you have cured my jealousy, I thank you; And more, your man for the discovery; But most the constant means, my virtuous wife, Your medicine my sweet Lord. O my deer, deer Diana. Much good do thee. Stay, stay, stay, stay; Why may not this be then a counterfeit Actium, Or a false missed to blind me with more error? The ill I feared may have been done before, And all this but deceit to daub it over. Shugh, give me leave. Honour! in oath of glass! That's easily believed. But how can this appear? So, so, now he's mad. Must it come that way. Mad, mad, he's mad, Would we were quickly out on's fingers yet. He came for London four days before us. How have you been concealed, and this house? Here's mystery in this. Full of content and joy. Indeed it is so son. Was that so hard to find, if she desired it. Then you conclude here are. Can he be here? Pritheee Diana, yet lets slip away Now while he's busy. Gone home I warrant you with Mistress Blaze. Let them be our example. You're and impudent whore, Was ever man betrayed thus into torment? Ex. My Lord, 'tis not her birth and fortune, which Do jointly claim a privilege to live Above my reach of jealousy, shall restrain That passion in me, but her well tried virtue: Jn the true faith of which J am confirmed, And thoroughly cured.