After twice putting forth to sea, his fame
Shipwreck'd in either, and his once-known name
In two years silence buried, perhaps lost
In the general opinion; at our cost
(A zealous sacrifice to Neptune made
For good success in his uncertain trade)
Our author weighs up anchors, and once more
Forsaking the security of the shore,
Resolves to prove his fortune: what 'twill be,
Is not in him, or us, to prophesie;
You only, can assure us: yet he pray'd
This little, in his absence, might be said,
Designing me his orator. He submits
To the grave censure of those abler wits

His weakness; nor dares he profess that when
The critics laugh, he'll laugh at them agen.

(Strange self-love in a writer!) He would know
His errors as you find them, and bestow
His future studies to reform from this,
What in another might be judged amiss.
And yet despair not, gentlemen; though he fear
His strengths to please, we hope that you shall
Some things so writ, as you may truly say [hear
He hath not quite forgot to make a play,
As 'tis with malice rumour'd: his intents
Are fair; and though he want the compliments
Of wide-mouth'd promisers, who still engage,
Before their works are brought upon the stage,
Their parasites to proclaim them: this last birth,
Deliver'd without noise, may yield such mirth,
As, balanced equally, will cry down the boast
Of arrogance, and regain his credit lost.

SCENE I.-NAPLES. A Grove.

Enter DURAZZO, CAMILLO, LENTULO, DONATO, and two

Servants.

Dur. Tell me of his expenses! Which of you Stands bound for a gazet? he spends his own; And you impertinent fools or knaves, (make choice Of either title, which your signiorships please,) To meddle in't.

Camil. Your age gives privilege

To this harsh language.

Dur. My age! do not use

That word again; if you do, I shall grow young,

And swinge you soundly: I would have you know
Though I write fifty odd, I do not carry

An almanack in my bones to pre-declare
What weather we shall have; nor do I kneel
In adoration, at the spring and fall,
Before my doctor, for a dose or two

Of his restoratives, which are things, I take it,
You are familiar with.

Camil. This is from the purpose.

Dur. I cannot cut a caper, or groan like you When I have done, nor run away so nimbly Out of the field: but bring me to a fence-school, And crack a blade or two for exercise,

Ride a barb'd horse, or take a leap after me, Following my hounds or hawks, (and, by your

leave,

At a gamesome mistress,) and you shall confess
I am in the May of my abil ties,

And you in your December.

Lent. We are glad you bear

Your years so well.

Dur. My years! no more of years;

If you do, at your peril.

Camil. We desire not

To prove your valour.

Dur. 'Tis your safest course.

Camil. But as friends to your fame and reputa-
tion,

Come to instruct you, your too much indulgence
To the exorbitant waste of young Caldoro,
Your nephew and your ward, hath rendered you
But a bad report among wise men in Naples.

Dur. Wise men !-in your opinion; but to me,
That understand myself and them, they are
Hide-bounded money-mongers: they would have

To the ruin of his state, under your favour,

In feeding his loose riots.

Dur. Riots! what riots?

He wears rich clothes; I do so; keeps horses, games, and wenches;

'Tis not amiss, so it be done with decorum : In an heir 'tis ten times more excusable Than to be over-thrifty. Is there aught else

That you can charge him with?

Camil. With what we grieve for,

And you will not approve.

Dur. Out with it, man.

Camil. His rash endeavour, without your conTo match himself into a family

Not gracious with the times.

Dur. 'Tis still the better;

By this means he shall scape court visitants, And not be eaten out of house and home

[sent,

In a summer progress: but does he mean to marry? Camil. Yes, sir, to marry.

Dur. In a beardless chin

'Tis ten times worse than wenching. Camil. Signor Severino's.

Dur. How! not he that kill'd

Family! [whose family?

Ador. And wrong me,

In being so importunate for that

I neither can nor must grant.
Calis. A hard sentence !

And to increase my misery, by you,

Whom fond affection hath made my judge,
Pronounced without compassion. Alas, sir,
Did I approach you with unchaste desires,
A sullied reputation; were deform'd,

As it may be I am, though many affirm
I am something more than handsome--
Dur. I dare swear it.

Calis. Or if I were no gentlewoman, but bred

coarsely,

You might, with some pretence of reason, slight What you should sue for.

Dur. Were he not an eunuch,

He would, and sue again; I am sure I should. Pray look in my collar, a flea troubles me: Hey-day! there are a legion of young Cupids At barley-break in my breeches.

Calis. Hear me, sir;

Though you continue, nay increase your scorn,
Only vouchsafe to let me understand

What my defects are; of which once convinced,
I will hereafter silence my harsh plea,
And spare your further trouble.

Ador. I will tell you,

And bluntly, as my usual manner is.

Though I were a woman-hater, which I am not,
But love the sex,-for my ends, take me with you;
If in my thought I found one taint or blemish
In the whole fabric of your outward features,
I would give myself the lie. You are a virgin
Possess'd of all your mother could wish in you;
Your father Severino's dire disaster

In killing of your uncle, which I grieve for,
In no part taking from you. I repeat it,
A noble virgin, for whose grace and favours
The Italian princes might contend as rivals;
Yet unto me, a thing far, far beneath you,
(A noted libertine I profess myself,)

In your mind there does appear one fault so gross,
Nay, I might say unpardonable at your years,
If justly you consider it, that I cannot

As you desire, affect you.

Calis. Make me know it,

I'll soon reform it.

Ador. Would you'd keep your word!

Calis. Put me to the test.

Ador. I will. You are too honest, And, like your mother, too strict and religious, And talk too soon of marriage; I shall break, If at that rate I purchase you. Can I part with My uncurb'd liberty, and on my neck Wear such a heavy yoke? hazard my fortunes, With all the expected joys my life can yield me, For one commodity, before I prove it? Venus forbid on both sides! let crook'd hams, Bald heads, declining shoulders, furrow'd cheeks, Be awed by ceremonies: if you love me

In the way young people should, I'll fly to meet it, And we'll meet merrily.

Calis. 'Tis strange such a man

Can use such language.

Ador. In my tongue my heart

Speaks freely, fair one. Think on't, a close friend, Or private mistress, is court rhetoric;

A wife, mere rustic solecism: so good morrow! [ADORIO offers to go, CALDORO comes forward and stops him.

Camil. How like you this?

Dur. A well-bred gentleman!

I am thinking now if ever in the dark,

Or drunk, I met his mother

he must have

Some drops of my blood in him, for at his years I was much of his religion.

Camil. Out upon you!

Don. The colt's tooth still in your mouth!
Dur. What means this whispering?

Ador. You may perceive I seek not to displant you,

Where you desire to grow; for further thanks, 'Tis needless compliment.

Cald. There are some natures
Which blush to owe a benefit, if not

Received in corners; holding it an impairing
To their own worth, should they acknowledge it.
I am made of other clay, and therefore must
Trench so far on your leisure, as to win you
To lend a patient ear, while I profess

Before my glory, though your scorn, Calista,
How much I am your servant.

Ador. My designs

Are not so urgent, but they can dispense
With so much time.

Camil. Pray you now observe your nephew. Dur. How he looks! like a school-boy that had And went to be breech'd. [play'd the truant,

Cald. Madam!

Calis. A new affliction!

Your suit offends as much as his repulse,
It being not to be granted.

Mirt. Hear him, madam ;

His sorrow is not personated; he deserves
Your pity, not contempt.

Dur. He has made the maid his ;
And, as the master of the Art of Love
Wisely affirms, it is a kind of passage
To the mistress' favour.

Cald. I come not to urge

My merit to deserve you, since you are,
Weigh'd truly to your worth, above all value:
Much less to argue you of want of judgment
For following one that with wing'd feet flies from

Those lawful flames, (for, madam, know, with other
I never shall approach you,) which Adorio,
In scorn of Hymen and religious rites,
With atheistical impudence contemns ;
And in his loose attempt to undermine
The fortress of your honour, seeks to ruin
All holy altars by clear minds erected
To virgin honour.

Dur. My nephew is an ass;

What a devil hath he to do with virgin honour, Altars, or lawful flames, when he should tell her They are superstitious nothings; and speak to the Of the delight to meet in the old dance, [purpose, Between a pair of sheets; my grandam call'd it, The Peopling of the World.

Calis. How, gentle sir!

To vindicate my honour! that is needless;
I dare not fear the worst aspersion malice
Can throw upon it.

Cald. Your sweet patience, lady,

And more than dove-like innocence, render you Insensible of an injury, for which

I deeply suffer. Can you undergo

The scorn of being refused? I must confess
It makes for my ends; for had he embraced
Your gracious offers tender'd him, I had been
In my own hopes forsaken; and if yet
There can breathe any air of comfort in me,
To his contempt I owe it: but his ill
No more shall make way for my good intents,
Than virtue, powerful in herself, can need
The aids of vice.

Ador. You take that license, sir,
Which yet I never granted.

Cald. I'll force more;

Nor will I for my own ends undertake it,
As I will make apparent, but to do

A justice to your sex, with mine own wrong
And irrecoverable loss. To thee I turn,
Thou goatish ribald, in whom lust is grown
Defensible, the last descent to hell,
Which gapes wide for thee: look upon this lady,
And on her fame, (if it were possible,
Fairer than she is,) and if base desires,
And beastly appetite, will give thee leave,
Consider how she sought thee, how this lady,
In a noble way, desired thee. Was she fashion'd
In an inimitable mould, (which Nature broke,
The great work perfected,) to be made a slave
To thy libidinous twines, and, when commanded,
To be used as physic after drunken surfeits!
Mankind should rise against thee: what even now
I heard with horror, shewed like blasphemy,
And as such I will punish it.

[Strikes ADORIO, the rest rush forward; they all draw.
Calis. Murder!

Mirt. Help!

For this affront, when time serves, I shall call you
To a strict accompt.
[Exit.

Dur. Hook on, follow him, harpies!
You may feed upon this business for a month,
If you manage it handsomely:

[Exeunt CAMILLO, LENTULO, and DONATO.
When two heirs quarrel,
The swordmen of the city shortly after
Appear in plush, for their grave consultations
In taking up the difference; some, I know,
Make a set living on't. Nay, let him go,
Thou art master of the field; enjoy thy fortune
With moderation for a flying foe,

Discreet and provident conquerors build up

A bridge of gold. To thy mistress, boy! if I were In thy shirt, how I could nick it!

Cald. You stand, madam,

As you were rooted, and I more than fear

My passion hath offended: I perceive

The roses frighted from your cheeks, and paleness To usurp their room: yet you may please to ascribe it

To my excess of love, and boundless ardour
To do you right; for myself I have done nothing.
I will not curse my stars, howe'er assured
To me you are lost for ever: for suppose
Adorio slain, and by my hand, my life
Is forfeited to the law, which I contemn,
So with a tear or two you would remember
I was your martyr, and died in your service.

Cal. Alas, you weep! and in my just compassion
Of what you suffer, I were more than marble,
Should I not keep you company you have sought
My favours nobly, and I am justly punish'd,
In wild Adorio's contempt and scorn,
For my ingratitude, it is no better,
To your deservings: yet such is my fate,
Though I would, I cannot help it. O Caldoro!
In our misplaced affection I prove

Too soon, and with dear-bought experience, Cupid
Is blind indeed, and hath mistook his arrows.
If it be possible, learn to forget,

(And yet that punishment is too light,) to hate,
A thankless virgin: practise it; and may
Your due consideration that I am so,
In your imagination, disperse
Loathsome deformity upon this face

That hath bewitch'd you! more I cannot say,
But that I truly pity you, and wish you
A better choice, which, in my prayers, Caldoro,
I ever will remember.

[Exeunt CALISTA and MIRTILLA,

To my directions. First, you must change
This city whorish air, for 'tis infected,
And my potions will not work here; I must have
To my country villa: rise before the sun, [you
Then make a breakfast of the morning dew,
Served up by nature on some grassy hill;
You'll find it nectar, and far more cordial
Than cullises, cock-broth, or your distillations
Of a hundred crowns a quart.

Cald. You talk of nothing.

Dur. This ta'en as a preparative, to strengthen Your queasy stomach, vault into your saddle; With all this flesh I can do it without a stirrup :My hounds uncoupled, and my huntsmen ready, You shall hear such music from their tunable mouths,

That you shall say the viol, harp, theorbo, Ne'er made such ravishing harmony: from the groves

And neighbouring woods, with frequent iterations, Enamour'd of the cry, a thousand echoes Repeating it.

Cald. What's this to me?

Dur. It shall be,

Flies from the fist; the crow so near pursued,
Shall be compell'd to seek protection under
Our horses bellies; a hearn put from her siege,
And a pistol shot off in her breech, shall mount
So high, that, to your view, she'll seem to soar
Above the middle region of the air:
A cast of haggard falcons, by me mann'd,
Eyeing the prey at first, appear as if
They did turn tail; but with their labouring wings
Getting above her, with a thought their pinions
Cleaving the purer element, make in,

And by turns bind with her; the frighted fowl,
Lying at her defence upon her back,
With her dreadful beak a while defers her death,
But by degrees forced down, we part the fray,
And feast upon her.

Cald. This cannot be, I grant,
But pretty pastime.

Dur. Pretty pastime, nephew!

'Tis royal sport. Then, for an evening flight,
A tiercel gentle, which I call, my masters,
As he were sent a messenger to the moon,
In such a place flies, as he seems to say,
See me, or see me not! the partridge sprung,
He makes his stoop; but wanting breath, is forced
To cancelier; then, with such speed as if
He carried lightning in his wings, he strikes
The trembling bird, who even in death appears
Proud to be made his quarry.

Cald. Yet all this

Is nothing to Calista.

Dur. Thou shalt find

Twenty Calistas there; for every night,

A fresh and lusty one; I'll give thee a ticket,
In which my name, Durazzo's name, subscribed,
My tenants' nut-brown daughters, wholesome girls,
At midnight shall contend to do thee service.

I have bred them up to't; should their fathers

murmur,

Their leases are void, for that is a main point

Calis. 'Twas not in me

To help it, madam.

Iöl. No! how have I lived?

My neighbour knows my manners have been such,

That I presume I may affirm, and boldly,

In no particular action of my life

I can be justly censured.

Calip. Censured, madam !

What lord or lady lives, worthy to sit

A competent judge on you?

Calis. Yet black detraction

Will find faults where they are not.
Calip. Her foul mouth

Is stopp'd, you being the object: give me leave
To speak my thoughts, yet still under correction ;
And if my young lady and her woman hear
With reverence, they may be edified.
You are my gracious patroness and supportress,
And I your poor observer, nay, your creature,
Fed by your bounties; and but that I know
Your honour detests flattery, I might say,
And with an emphasis, you are the lady
Admired and envied at, far, far above
All imitation of the best of women
That are or ever shall be. This is truth:
I dare not be obsequious; and 'twould ill
Become my gravity, and wisdom glean'd
From your oraculous ladyship, to act
The part of a she-parasite.

Iöl. If you do,

I never shall acknowledge you.

[often,

[Aside.

The Mirror of Knighthood, which I have read Read feelingly, nay more, I do believe in't, [often, My lady has no parallel.

Töl. Do not provoke me:

If, from this minute, thou e'er stir abroad,
Write letter, or receive one; or presume
To look upon a man, though from a window,
I'll chain thee like a slave in some dark corner;
Prescribe thy daily labour, which omitted,
Expect the usage of a Fury from me,
Not an indulgent mother.-Come, Calipso.

Calip. Your ladyship's injunctions are so easy,
That I dare pawn my credit my young lady
And her woman shall obey them.

[Exeunt IOLANTE and CALIPSO.

Mirt. You shall fry first

For a rotten piece of touchwood, and give fire
To the great fiend's nostrils, when he smokes

tobacco!

Note the injustice, madam; they would have us, Being young and hungry, keep perpetual Lent,

And the whole year to them a carnival.

Easy injunctions, with a mischief to you!

Suffer this and suffer all.

Calis. Not stir abroad!

The use and pleasure of our eyes denied us!

Mirt. Insufferable.

Calis. Nor write, nor yet receive

An amorous letter !

Mirt. Not to be endured.

Calis. Nor look upon a man out of a window ! Mirt. Flat tyranny, insupportable tyranny,

To a lady of your blood.

Calis. She is my mother,

And how should I decline it?

Mirt. Run away from't;

Take any course.