Leu.
And thus she has us'd me, is't not a good mother?

Ismenus. Why kill'd you her not?

Leu. The gods forbid it.

Ismenus. S'light, if all the women i'th' world were barren, shee had dy'd.

Leuc. But 'tis not reason directs thee thus.

Ismen. Then have I none at all, for all I have in me
Directs me: Your Father's in a pretty rage.

Leucippus. Why?

Ismenus. Nay, 'tis well, if he know himself, but some of the Nobility have deliver'd a petition to him: what's in't, I know not, but it has put him to his trumps: he has taken a months time to answer it, and chafes like himself.

Enter Leontius, Bacha, and Tellamon

Leu. He's here Ismenus.

Leon. Set me down Tellamon. Leucippus.

Leu. Sir.

Bach. Nay good Sir, be at peace, I dare swear he kn[ew] not of it.

Leon. You are foolish: peace.

Bach. All will go ill, deny it boldly Sir, trust me he cannot prove it by you.

Leu. What?

Bach. You'll make all worse too with your facing it.

Leuc. What is the matter?

Leon. Know'st thou that petition?
Look on it well: wouldst thou be joyn'd with me
(Unnaturall child to be weary of me)
E'r Fate esteem me fit for other worlds.

Bac. May be he knows not of it.

Leu. Oh strange carriages!
Sir, as I have hope that there is any thing
To reward doing well, my usages
Which have been (but 'tis no matter what)
Have put me so far from the thought of Greatness,
That I should welcome it like a disease
That grew upon me, and I could not cure.
They are my enemies that gave you this,
And yet they call me friend, and are themselves
I fear abus'd. I am weary of my life,
For Gods sake take it from me: it creates
More mischief in the State than it is worth,
The usage I have had, I know would make
Wisdom her self run frantick through the streets,
And Patience quarrel with her shadow.
Sir, this sword —

Bac. Alas! help for the love of Heaven,
Make way through me first, for he is your Father.

Leon. What, would he kill me?

Bac. No Sir, no.

Leon. Thou always [mak'st] the best on't, but I fear —

Leu. Why do you use me thus? who is't can think
That I would kill my Father, that can yet
Forbear to kill you? Here Sir, is my sword;
I dare not touch it, lest she say again
I would have kill'd you: let me not have mercy
When I most need it, if I would not change
Place with my meanest servant. Let these faults
Be mended Madam: if you saw how ill
They did become you, you would part with them.

Bac. I told the Duke as much before.

Leu. What? what did you tell him?

Bac. That it was only an ambition,
Nurst in you by your youth, provok'd you thus,
Which age would take away.

Leon. It was his doing then? come hither Love.

Bac. No indeed, Sir.

Leu. How am I made, that I can bear all this?
If any one had us'd a friend of mine [nere] this,
My hand had carried death about it.

Leon. Lead me hence Tellamon: come my dear
Bacha, I shall find time for this.

Ism. Madam, you know I dare not speak before
The King; but you know well, if not, I'll tell [it] you,
You are the most wicked'st, and most murderous
Strumpet, that ever was call'd Woman.

Bac. My Lord, what can I do for him? he shall command me.

Leon. I know thou art too kind; away I say.

[Exit Leon. Bac. Tima. Telia.

Isme. Sir, I am sure we dream, this cannot be.

Leu. Oh that we did, my wickedness has brought
All this to pass, else I should bear my self.

Enter Urania

Isme. Look, doe you see who's there? your virtuous Mothers issue: kill her, yet take some little pidling revenge.

Leu. Away, the whole Court calls her virtuous; for they say, she is unlike her Mother, and if so, she can have no vice.

Ism. I'll trust none of 'em that come of such a breed.

Leu. But I have found
A kind of love in her to me: alas,
Think of her death! I dare be sworn for her,
She is as free from any hate to me
As her bad Mother's full. She was brought up
I'th' Countrey, as her tongue will let you know

Enter Urania

If you but talk with her, with a poor Uncle,
Such as her Mother had.

Ism. She's come again.

Ura. I would fene speak to the good Marquess my brother, if I but thought he could abaid me.

Leu. Sister, how do you?

Ura. Very well I thank you.

Ism. How does your good Mother?

Leu. Fie, fie, Ismenus for shame, mock such an innocent soul as this.

Ura. Feth a she be no good, [G]od may her so.

Leu. I know you wish it with your heart dear Sister, but she is good I hope.

Ism. Are you so simple, to make so much of this?
Do you not know,
That all her wicked Mother labours for, is but to raise
Her to your right, and leave her this Dukedom?

Ura. I, but ne'r Sir be afred;
For though she take th' ungain'st weas she can,
I'll ne'er ha't fro' you.

Leu. I should hate my self Ismenus;
If I should think of her simplicity,
Ought but extreamly well.

Ism. Nay, as you will.

Ura. And though she be my Mother,
If she take any caurse to do you wrong,
If I can see't, youst quickly hear on't Sir:
And so I'll take my leave.

Leu. Farewel good Sister, I thank you.

[Exit Urania.

Ism. You believe all this.

Leu. Yes.

Enter Timantus

Ism. A good faith doth well, but methinks
It were no hard matter now, for her Mother to send her:
Yonder's one you may trust if you will too.

Leu. So I will, if he can shew me as apparent signs
Of truth as she did; Does he weep Ismenus?

Ism. Yes, I think so: some good's happen'd I warrant:
Do you hear, you? What honest man has scap'd misery, that
[you are] crying thus?

Tim. Noble Ismenus, where's the Prince?

Ism. Why there! hast wept thine eyes out?

Tim. Sir, I beseech you hear me.

Leu. Well, speak on.

Ism. Why, will you hear him?

Leu. Yes Ismenus, why?

Ism. I would hear blasphemy as willingly.

Leu. You are [to] blame.

Tim. No Sir: he is not to blame:
If I were as I was.

Ism. Nor as thou art, yfaith awhit [to] blame.

Leu. What's your business?

Tim. Faith Sir, I am ashamed to speak before you,
My conscience tells me I have injur'd you,
And by the earnest instigation
Of others, have not done you to the King
Always the best and friendliest offices;
Which pardon me, or I will never speak.

Ism. Never pardon him and silence a knave.

Leu. I pardon thee.

Tim. Your Mother sure is naught.

Leu. Why shouldst thou think so?

Tim. Oh noble, Sir, your honest eyes perceive not
The dangers you are led to; shame upon her,
And what fell miseries the gods can think on
Shower down upon her wicked head, she has plotted
I know too well your death: would my poor life
Or thousand[s] such as mine is, might be offer'd
Like sacrifices up for your preserving,
What free oblations would she have to glut her,
But she is merciless, and bent to ruin;
If heaven and good men step not to your rescue,
And timely, very timely: Oh this Dukedom!
I weep, I weep for the poor Orphans i'th' Countrey
Left with but Friends or Parents.

Leu. Now Ismenus, what think you of this fellow?
This was a lying knave, a flatterer,
Does not this Love still shew him so.

Ism. This Love? this Halter: if he prove not yet
The cunning'st rankest rogue that ever Canted,
I'll never see man again: I know him to bring,
And can interpret every new face he makes;
Look how he wrings like a good stool for a tear:
Take heed, Children and Fools
First feel the smart, Then weep.

Leu. Away, away, such an unkind distrust,
Is worse than a dissembling, if it be one,
And sooner leads to mischief, I believe it,
And him an honest man: he could not carry
Under an evil cause, so true a sorrow.

Ism. Take heed, this is your Mothers scorpion,
That carries stings even in his tears,
Whose soul is a rank poison through: Touch
Not at him, if you do, you are gone, if you had twenty
Lives: I knew him for a Roguish boy, when
He would poison Dogs, and keep tame Toads,
He lay with his Mother, and infected her, and now
She begs i'th' Hospital, with a patch of Velvet,
Where her Nose stood: like the Queen of Spades.
And all her teeth in her purse, the Devil and this
Fellow are so near, 'Tis not yet known which is the eviler Angel.

Leu. Nay, then I see 'tis spite: Come hither friend.
Hast thou not heard the cause yet that incens'd my Mother
to my death, for I protest I feel none in my self?

Tim. Her Will Sir, and Ambition, as I think,
Are the provokers of it, as in Women,
Those two are ever powerful to destruction,
Beside a hate of your still growing virtues,
She being only wicked.

Leu. Heavens defend me as I am innocent,
And ever have been from all immoderate thoughts and
Actions, that carry such rewards along w[i]th 'em.

Tim. Sir, all I know, my duty must reveal,
My Countrey and my Love command it from me,
For whom I'll lay my life down: this night coming,
A Counsel is appointed by the Duke,
To sit about your apprehension:
If you dare trust my faith: which by all good things
Shall ever watch about you: goe along,
And to a place I'll guide you: where no word
Shall scape without your hearing, nor no plot
Without discovering to you, which once known, you have your
answers and prevention.

Ism. You are not so mad to goe; shift off this fellow, you shall be rul'd once by a wise man: Ratsbane get you gone, or —

Leu. Peace, peace for shame, thy love is too suspitious, 'tis a way offer'd to preserve my life, and I will take it: be my Guide Timantus and do not mind this angry man, thou know'st him: I may live to requite thee.

Tim. Sir, this service is done for virtues sake, not for reward, however he may hold me.

Ism. The great pox on you: but thou hast that curse so much, 'twill grow a blessing in thee shortly. Sir, for wisdoms sake court not your death, I am your friend and subject, and I shall lose in both: if I lov'd you not, I would laugh at you, and see you run your neck into the noose, and cry a Woodcock.

Leu. So much of man, and so much fearful; fie, prethee have peace within thee: I shall live yet many a golden day to hold thee here dearest and nearest to me: Go on Timantus, I charge you by your love no more, no more.

[Exeunt Leu. Tim.

Ism. Goe, and let your own rod whip you:
I pity you. And dog, if he miscarry thou shalt pay for't,
I'll study for thy punishment, and it shall last
Longer and sharper than a tedious Winter,
Till thou blasphem'st, and then thou diest and damn'st.

[Exit.

Enter Leontius and Tellamon

Leon. I wonder the Dutchess comes not.

Tel. She has heard, Sir, your Will to speak with her:
But there is something leaden at her heart;
(Pray God it be not mortal) that even keeps her
From conversation with her self.

Enter the Dutchess

B. Oh whither will you my cross affections pull me?
Fortune, Fate, and you whose powers direct our actions,
And dwell within us: you that are Angels
Guiding to virtue, wherefore have you given
So strong a hand to evil? wherefore suffer'd
A Temple of your own, you Deities
Where your fair selves dwelt only, and your goodness
Thus to be soyl'd with sin?

Leon. Heaven bless us all.
From whence comes this distemper? speak my fair one.

Bac. And have you none, Love and Obedience,
You[r] ever faithful Servants to imploy
In this strange story of impiety,
But me a Mother; Must I be your strumpet?
To lay black Treason upon, and in him,
In whom all sweetness was: in whom my love
Was [proud] to have a Being, in whom Justice,
And all the gods for our imaginations
Can work into a man, were more than virtues,
Ambition down to hell, where thou wert foster'd,
Thou hast poison'd the best soul, the purest, whitest,
And meerest innocent'st it self that ever
Mens greedy hopes gave life to.

Leon. This is still stranger: lay this treason
Open to my correction.

Bac. Oh what a combat duty and affection
Breeds in my blood!

Leon. If thou conceal'st him, may,
Beside my death, the curses of the Countrey,
Troubles of conscience, and a wretched end,
Bring thee unto a poor forgotten grave.

Bach. My Being: for another tongue to tell it,
Cease, a Mother! some good man that dares
Speak for his King and Countrey: I am full
Of too much womans pity: yet oh Heaven,
Since it concerns the safety of my Sovereign,
Let it not be a cruelty in me,
Nor draw a Mothers name in question,
Amongst unborn people, to give up that man
To Law and Justice, that unrighteously
Has sought his Fathers death: be deaf: be deaf Sir,
Your Son is the offender: Now have you all,
Would I might never speak again.

Leon. My Son! Heaven help me.
No more! I thought it, and since
His life is grown so dangerous: Let them that
Gave him, take him: he shall dye,
And with him all my fears.

Bac. Oh use your mercy: you have a brave subject
To bestow it on. I'll forgive him, Sir; and for his
Wrong to me, I'll be before ye.

Leon. Durst his villany extend to thee?

Bac. Nothing but heats of youth, Sir.

Leon. Upon my life he sought my bed.

Bacha. I must confess he loved me
Somewhat beyond a Son: and still pursu'd it
With such a Lust, I will not say Ambition:
That clean forgetting all obedience,
And only following his first heat unto me,
He hotly sought your death, and me in Marriage.

Leon. Oh Villain!

Bac. But I forget all: and am half asham'd
To press a man so far.

Enter Timantus

Tim. Where is the Duke? for Gods sake bring me to him:

Leon. Here I am: each corner of the Dukedom
Sends new affrights forth: what wouldst thou? speak.

Tim. I cannot Sir, my fear ties up my tongue:

Leon. Why, what's the matter? Take thy courage
To thee, and boldly speak, where are the Guard?
In the gods name, out with it:

Tim. Treason, treason.

Leon. In whom?

Bacha. Double the Guard.

Tim. There is a fellow, Sir.

Leon. Leave shaking man.

Timan. 'Tis not for fear, but wonder.

Leon. Well.

Timan. There is a fellow, Sir, close i'th' Lobby:
You o'the Guard, look to the door there.

Leon. But let me know the business.

Tima. Oh that the hearts of men should be so hard'ned
Against so good a Duke, for Gods sake, Sir,
Seek means to save your self; This wretched slave
Has his sword in his hand, I know his heart:
Oh it hath almost kill'd me with the thought of it.

Leon. Where is he?

Enter the Guard, and bring him in

Timan. I'th' Lobby Sir, close in a corner:
Look to your selves for Heavens sake,
Me thinks he is here already.
Fellows of the Guard be valiant.

Leon. Goe Sirs, and apprehend him; Treason shall
Never dare me in mine own Gates.

Tim. 'Tis done.

[There they bring the Prince in.

Bacha. And thou shalt find it to thy best content.

Leon. Are these the comforts of my age?
They're happy that end their daies contented
With a little, and live aloof from dangers, to a King
Every content doth a new peril bring.
Oh let me live no longer, shame of Nature,
Bastard to Honor: Traytor, Murderer,
Devil in a humane shape. Away with him,
He shall not breathe his hot [inf]ection here.

Leu. Sir, hear me.

Leon. Am I or he your Duke? away with him
To a close prison: your Highness now shall know,
Such branches must be cropt before they grow.

Leu. Whatever fortune comes, I bid it welcome,
My innocency is my Armor: gods preserve you.

[Exit.

Bacha. Fare thee well, I shall never see so brave a Gent.
Would I could weep out his offences.

Tim. Or I could weep out mine eyes.

Leon. Come Gentlemen, we'll determine presently
About his death: we cannot be too forward in our
Safety: I am very sick, lead me unto my bed.

[Exeunt.

Enter Citizen and his Boy

Cit. Sirrah, goe fetch my Fox from the Cutlers: There's money for the scowring: Tell him I stop a groat since the last great Muster: he had in stone Pitch for the bruise: he took with the recoyling of his Gun.

Boy. Yes Sir.

Cit. And do you hear? when you come, Take down my Buckler, and sweep the Cobwebs off: and grind the pick o[n']t, and fetch a Nail or two: and tack on bracers: your Mistriss made a pot-lid ont't, I thank her, at her Ma[yd]s Wedding, and burnt off the Handle.

Boy. I will Sir.

[Exit.

Cit. Who's within here, hoe Neighbor, not stirring yet?

2 Cit. Oh, good morrow, good morrow: what news, what news?

1 Cit. It holds, he dies this morning.

2 Cit. Then happy man be his fortune, I am resolv'd.

1 Cit. And so am I, and forty more good fellows, That will not give their heads for the washing, I take it.

2 Cit. 'Sfoot man, who would not hang in such good company, and such a cause? A Fire, a Wife and Children; 'Tis such a jest that men should look behind 'em to the world: and let their honors, their honors neighbor, slip.

1 Cit. I'll give thee a pint of Bastard and a Roll for that bare word.

2 Cit. They say, that we Tailors, are things that lay one
another, and our Geese hatch us: I'll make some of 'em feel
they are Geese o'th' game then.
I'fack, take down my Bill, 'tis ten to one I use it. Take a
good heart man, all the low ward is ours, with a wet finger.
An[d] lay my cut-fing'red Gantlet ready for me,
That, that I us'd to work in, when the Gentl. were
Up against us, and beaten out of Town, and almost out o'
Debt too: for a plague on 'em they never paid well since:
And take heed sirrah, your Mistriss hears not of this
Business, she's near her time: yet if she do,
I care not, she may long for Rebellion,
For she has a devilish spirit.

1 Cit. Come, let's call up the new Iremonger, he's as
tough as steel, and has a fine wit in these resurrections;
Are you stirring neighbor?

3. Within. Oh, Good morrow neighbors, I'll come to you presently.

2. Goe to, this is his Mothers doing; she's a Polecat.

1. As any is in the world.

2. Then say, I have hit it, and a vengeance on her, let her be what she will.

1. Amen say I, she has brought things to a fine pass with her wisdom: do you mark it?

2. One thing I am sure she has, the good old Duke, she gives him pap again they say, and dandles him, and hangs a corral and bells about his neck, and makes him believe his teeth will come agen; which if they did, and I he, I would worry her as never Curr was worried: I would neighbor, till my teeth met I know where, but that's counsel.

Enter [third] Citizen

3. Good morrow neighbors: hear you the sad news?

1. Yes, would we knew as well how to prevent it.

3. I cannot tell, methinks 'twere no great matter, if men were men: but —

2. You do not twit me with my calling neighbor?

3. No surely: for I know your spirit to be tall; pray be not vext.

2. Pray forward with your counsel: I am what I am, and they that prove me shall find me to their cost: do you mark me neighbor, to their cost I say.

1. Nay, look how soon you are angry!

2. They shall neighbors: yes, I say they shall.

3. I do believe they shall.

1. I know they shall.

2. Whether you do or no I care not two pence,
I am no beast, I know mine own strength neighbors;
God bless the King, your companies is fair.

1. Nay neighbor, now ye erre, [I] tell you so, and ye [were] twenty Neighbors.

3. You had best goe peach, doe, peach.

2. Peach; I scorn the motion.

3. Doe, and see what follows: I'll spend an hundred pound, and be two I care not: but I'll undoe thee.

2. Peach, Oh disgrace! Peach in thy face, and doe the worst thou canst: I am a true-man, and a free-man: peach!

1. Nay, look, you will spoil all.

2. Peach!

1. Whilst you two brawl together, the Prince will lose his life.

3. Come, give me your hand, I love you well, are you for the action?

2. Yes: but Peach provokes me, 'tis a cold fruit, I feel it cold in my stomach still.

3. No more, I'll give you Cake to digest it.

Enter the Fourth

4. Shut up my shop, and be ready at a call boys, and one of you run over my old tuck with a few ashes, 'tis grown odious with tosting Cheese: and burn a little Juniper in my Murrin, the Maid made it her Chamber-pot: an hour hence I'll come again; and as you hear from me, send me a clean shirt.

3. The Chandler by th[e] Wharf, and it be thy Will.

2. Gossip, good morrow.

4. Oh good morrow Gossip: good morrow all, I see ye of one mind you cleave so close together: come 'tis time, I have prepared [a] hundred if they stand.

1. 'Tis well done: shall we sever, and about it?

3. First, let's to the Tavern, and a pint a piece will make us Dragons.

2. I will have no mercy, come what will of it.

4. If my tuck hold, I'll spit the Guard like Larks with sage between 'em.

2. I have a foolish Bill to reckon with 'em, will make some of their hearts ake, and I'll lay it on: now shall I fight, 'twill do you good to see me.

3. Come, I'll do something for the Town to talk of when I am rotten: pray God there be enough to kill, that's all. [Exeunt.

Enter Dorialus, Nisus, Agenor

Age. How black the day begins!

Dor. Can you blame it, and look upon such a deed as shall be done this morning?

Nis. Does the Prince suffer to day?

Dor. Within this hour they say.

Agen. Well, they that are most wicked are most safe: 'twill be a strange justice, and a lamentable, gods keep us from the too soon feeling of it.

Doria. I care not if my throat were next: for to live still, and live here, were but to grow [f]at for the Shambles.

Nis. Yet we must do it, and thank 'em too, that our lives may be accepted.

Age. Faith I'll go starve [my] self, or grow diseas'd to shame the hangman; for I am sure he shall be my Herald, and quarter me.

Dor. I, a plague on him, he's too excellent at Arms.

Nisus. Will you go see this sad sight, my Lord Agenor?

Age. I'll make a mourner.

Dor. If I could do him any good, I would goe,
The bare sight else will but afflict my spirit,
My prayers shall be as near him as your eyes:
As you find him setled, remember my love and service to his Grace.

Nis. We will weep for you, Sir: farewel.

[Exeunt.

Dor. Farewell to all our happiness, a long farewel.
Thou angry power, whether of Heaven or Hell,
Thou laist this sharp correction on our Kingdom
For our offences, infinite and mighty!
Oh hear me, and at length be pleas'd, be pleas'd
With pity to draw back thy vengeance,
Too heavy for our weakness; and accept,
(Since it is your discretion, heavenly Wisdoms,
To have it so) this sacrifice for all,
That now is flying to your happiness,
Only for you most fit: let all our sins suffer in him.

[A shout within.

Gods, what's the matter? I hope 'tis joy;
How now my Lords?

Enter Agenor and Nisus

Nis. I'll tell you with that little breath I have;
More joy than you dare think, The Prince is safe from danger.

Dor. How!

Age. 'Tis true, and thus it was; his hour was come
To lose his life, he ready for the stroke,
Nobly, and full of Saint-like patience,
Went with his Guard: which when the people saw,
Compassion first went out, mingled with tears,
That bred desires, and whispers to each other,
To do some worthy kindness for the Prince,
And e'r they understood well how to do,
Fury stept in, and taught them what to do,
Thrusting on every hand to rescue him,
As a white innocent: then flew the roar
Through all the streets, of Save him, save him, save him:
And as they cry'd, they did; for catching up
Such sudden weapons as their madness shew them
In short, they beat the Guard, and took him from 'em,
And now march with him like a royal Army.

Dor. Heaven, heaven I thank thee,
What a slave was I to have my hand so far from
This brave rescue, 't 'ad been a thing to brag on
When I was old. Shall we run for a wager to the
Next Temple, and give thanks?

Nis. As fast as wishes.

Enter Leucippus and Ismenus: the people within stops

Leu. Good friends goe home again, there's not a man shall goe with me.

Isme. Will you not take revenge? I'll call them on.

Leuc. All that love me, depart:
I thank you, and will serve you for your loves:
But I will thank you more to suffer me
To govern 'em: once more, I do beg ye,
For my sake to your houses.

All within. Gods preserve you.

Ism. And what house will you goe to?

Leu. Ismenus, I will take the wariest courses that I can think of to defend my self, but not offend.

Isme. You may kill your Mother, and never offend your Father, an honest man.

Leu. Thou know'st I can scape now, that's all I look for: I'll leave.

Isme. Timantus, a pox take him, would I had him here, I would kill him at his own weapon single, sithes we have built enough on him: plague on't, I'm out of all patience: discharge such an Army as this, that would have followed you without paying, Oh gods!

Leu. To what end should I keep 'em? I am free.

Isme. Yes, free o'th' Traitors, for you are proclaim'd one.

Leu. Should I therefore make my self one?

Isme. This is one of your moral Philosophy, is it?
Heaven bless me from subtilties to undoe my self with:
But I know, if reason her self were here,
She would not part with her own safety.

Leu. Well, pardon Ismenus, for I know
My courses are most just; nor will I stain 'em
With one bad action; for thy self thou know'st,
That though I may command thee, I shall be
A ready servant to thee if thou needst: and so I'll take my
leave.

Isme. Of whom?

Leu. Of thee.

Isme. Heart, you shall take no leave of me.

Leu. Shall I not?

Isme. No, by the gods shall you not: nay, if you have no more wit but to goe absolutely alone, I'll be in a little.

Leu. Nay, prethee good Ismenus part with me.

Isme. I wonnot i'faith, never move it any more; for by this good light I wonnot.

Leu. This is an ill time to be thus unruly: Ismenus. You must leave me.

Isme. Yes, if you can beat me away: else the gods refuse me if I will leave you till I see more reason; you sha'nt undoe your self.

Leu. But why wilt not leave me?

Isme. Why I'll tell you: Because when you are gone, then – life, if I have not forgot my reason – hell take me: you put me out of patience so: Oh! marry when you are gone, then will your Mother (a pox confound her) she never comes in my head, but she spoils my memory too: there are a hundred reasons.

Leu. But shew me one.

Isme. Shew you; what a stir here is; why I will shew you: Do you think; well, well, I know what I know, I pray come, come. 'Tis in vain: but I am sure. Devils take 'em; what do I meddle with 'em? You know your self. Soul, I think I am: is there any man i'th' world? as if you knew not this already better than I. Pish, pish, I'll give no reason.

Leu. But I will tell thee one, why thou shouldst stay:
I have not one friend in the Court but thou,
On whom I may be bold to trust to send me
Any intelligence: and if thou lov'st me
Thou wilt do this, thou needst not fear to stay,
For there are new-come Proclamations out,
Where all are pardon'd but my self.

Isme. 'Tis true, and in the same Proclamation, your fine Sister Urania, whom you us'd so kindly, is proclaim'd Heir apparent to the Crown.

Leu. What though, thou mayst stay at home without danger.

Isme. Danger, hang danger, what tell you me of danger?

Leu. Why if thou wilt not do't, I think thou dar'st not.

Isme. I dare not: if you speak it in earnest, you are a Boy.

Leu. Well Sir, if you dare, let me see you do't.

Isme. Why so you shall, I will stay.

Leu. Why God-a-mercy.

Isme. You know I love you but too well.

Leu. Now take these few directions: farewel, send to me by the wariest ways thou canst: I have a soul tells me we shall meet often. The gods protect thee.

Isme. Pox o' my self for an ass, I'm crying now, God be with you, if I never see you again: why then pray get you gone, for grief and anger wonnot let me know what I say, I'll to the Court as fast as I can, and see the new Heir apparant.

[Exeunt.